


Liberation of Snipers and Spectres

by Some_Writer



Series: Turian Machinations of Spectres and Primarchs [3]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, Destroy Ending, Established Shepard/Garrus Vakarian, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Horror, Injury Recovery, Light Angst, Mass Effect 3: Leviathan, No Shepard without Vakarian, Post-Mass Effect 3, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-02-10 00:37:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 74,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12900228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Writer/pseuds/Some_Writer
Summary: A year without word of her survival has left Garrus restless. After a whole series of events,  the game has finally changed and he's tired of waiting. He knows where she is and he'll let nothing stand between him and the woman most call, "Commander." To him, she's just Shepard.Excerpt:Garrus checked the clip on each pistol before fastening them both to his hip, one on each side. He then leaned up against the dash so he could secure his Phaeston assault rifle on his back, left of his Widow. As he snapped his grenade belt around his waist, he spared the building's front entrance a dark grimace. He hated fighting in hospitals and as he donned his helmet, he felt like he was going to war in one.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimers, because I feel like I should do two:**  
>  _1) I own nothing_  
>  _2) The way the hospital is depicted in this chapter does not, in any way, reflect my actual views. I'm sure Vancouver General Hospital is a fine facility..._ ~~Please don't sue me.~~  
>   
>  When I started writing **The Primarch's Order** , I had a very different reunion planned for Garrus and Shepard that would have involved a lot more Victus. [Then Mac Walters put this Tweet out ](https://twitter.com/macwalterslives/status/834276140680347648) and I loved it so much that I knew I had to incorporate it somehow. Problem was I couldn't think of a way to do that without deviating from Victus' POV. Thus, this was born. 
> 
> Obvious spoiler warning if you haven't read Primarch's Order.
> 
> Enjoy. :)
> 
> A _huge_ thank you to [shretl (Girlundone)](http://archiveofourown.org/users/girlundone/pseuds/shretl) for taking the time to beta read and catch all my mistakes. I seriously don't know how I managed without you!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I commissioned the amazing art you see below from the extremely talented, [Mad Bee.](http://heterochromiaturian.tumblr.com/) Brainstorming sketches with you was a huge contributing factor to how this chapter panned out. Thank you again!
> 
>  

It had been twenty-one hours since his shuttle departed from the turian cargo freighter and nineteen hours since it had glided to a smooth stop at the docking port. Eighteen hours ago, he secured a skycar in Toronto and thirteen since he had flown it to Vancouver. He hadn't slept a wink during any of those hours. He couldn't even if he tried, not that he did. He hardly left the driver's seat at all.

Rain spattered the windshield of his parked vehicle. There was a time when Garrus would have enjoyed watching it. It didn't rain often on Palaven, especially Cipritine, so when it did a lot of turians enjoyed it. Getting marooned on a wet, humid planet that rained near-constantly had a way of souring the experience. It was hard to get dry and he still had some scarring from the plate rot that accumulated on parts of his body because of it.

Though, he still found the sound pleasant.

Garrus spent most of the time watching the footage Victus had sent him on that momentous night he'd shown up at his door to tell him, _“As you expected, Commander Shepard is alive.”_ He wanted to know exactly where to go once he reached the destination, determined not to spend another single wasted second from Shepard.

It also served as a nice distraction from all the humans that shot him odd looks as they passed his car. He knew he should have sprung for the tinted windows.

Every time his omni-tool flashed, his eyes would dart to it in the hopes of receiving the highly anticipated coordinates he was promised. He knew his destination laid somewhere in the heaping, dilapidated pile the metropolis of Vancouver had become, but he didn't know where exactly.

It would seem the Councilor was content to make him wait. Again.

_'Ass.'_

Frustrated, he snarled at the unhelpful device as it merely informed him of his heightened blood pressure. Flicking an eye up to his visor revealed the same. He didn't need gadgets to know he was on edge. After a year of mourning, a year of pining, a year of being told ( _again_ ) that she was dead, he was going to see her. He was going to get her back. She was somewhere in this cesspool of a city, being held by the same people she had placed her trust in for over a decade.

 _'And they turn on her the first chance they get.'_ The plating of his gloves creaked as his hand closed into a tight fist.

After everything she had done for them, for the galaxy, this was how she was treated in return; locked away like an inconvenience. The thought struck rage in his heart like two flint stones casting sparks on a pile of dry brush.

She had saved so many even before the war.

She saved her crew.

She saved him.

His omni-tool flashed and, once again, his gaze darted to it immediately.

**A. Victus [Cipritine, Palaven]  
0723**

**49.2612°N 123.123056°W**

Garrus couldn't help the surprised breath he sucked in as his eyes fell on, in his opinion, the holy-fucking-grail of messages. Turians didn't kiss each other. That show of affection was one he'd learned only for Shepard, but he certainly felt like he could kiss the sender of this message... If he wasn't still so angry at him, that is. Garrus was still leaning strongly toward wanting to punch the Councilor in the face.

His omni-tool flashed again just as Garrus began plugging the coordinates into the car's holo interface, but he ignored it until his car had lifted from the ground. Then he glanced down and wanted to laugh at the follow-up message he'd received.

**A. Victus [Cipritine, Palaven]  
0724**

**Minimal bloodshed.**

_'We'll see,'_ he was tempted to respond with, but refrained. Lightning cracked across the sky in the same instant his blue eyes lifted from the device on his wrist in favor of the horizon.

His vehicle sped through the skyline, weaving around other cars as he repeatedly ignored that charming middle finger that kept getting raised in his direction. He didn't care. Not when he was only minutes away, and could already begin to make out the outline of the encroaching hospital. The fortress that entrapped Commander Shepard.

“I'm coming, Shepard,” he whispered, more as a reassurance to himself. “It's time someone saves you for a change.”

The clearer the outline of the building became in the smoggy, cloudy atmosphere, the easier it became for him to count his heartbeats as the muscle hammered itself against his rib cage. He glanced down at the vehicle's sound system, largely neglected until that very moment, and raised a finger to select a track reflecting his mood. Stormy as the sky around him.

A deep base thundered in his ear canals to sync with his heartbeat and he smiled, amused at how influential music still was to him. It was always a point of contention between him and his father.

“ _You can't afford distractions, Garrus. Turn that off,”_ his father would scold him, never understanding that music helped him concentrate and find a rhythm in each and every shot. He had once boasted to Shepard, while shooting bottles with her on the presidium, of how he could make the rifle dance. It wasn't entirely an exaggeration.

The music pulsed in his head as he brought his car to the ground, parking it in a very illegal spot in front of the main entrance. As he reached for his Widow, the talon on his pointer finger caressed the barrel like a lover before his hand enclosed around the stock and he hefted the gun into his lap.

 _'Minimal bloodshed,'_ was Victus' order. Garrus had no intention of hurting anyone... if he didn't have to. He would let nothing stop him from reaching Shepard and damn those who would try.

Perhaps he was taking this mission a little too personally, too emotionally. Then again, maybe that was why Victus chose to send him. He knew Garrus would be a force as merciless as the Councilor himself had become.

 _'Or maybe it's because he was your friend and he's trusting you not to fuck it up.'_ He briefly paused on that thought. _'Nah.'_

Garrus checked the clip on each pistol before fastening them both to his hip, one on each side. He then leaned up against the dash so he could secure his Phaestonassault rifle on his back, left of his Widow. As he snapped his grenade belt around his waist, he spared the building's front entrance a dark grimace. He hated fighting in hospitals and as he donned his helmet, he felt like he was going to war in one.

With that in mind, the hatch opened and he stepped out of his car to the sight of his first adversaries; two irate-looking, human security guards.

“Hey, you can't park there!” One called out as he and his buddy crossed the wet pavement, illuminated by the neon red hospital sign above. Angrily, they stormed toward his vehicle, but only managed about nine steps before their eyes saw past the wet mist and really landed on him, taking in the gleam of his blue and silver armor and the black visor hiding his face. As a turian Garrus already towered over them, but the fact his bulky armor painted an even more intimating image wasn't lost on him. He watched as their gaze roved up and over his shoulder, settling on the black stock of his menacing Widow and he could almost see the _'oh shit'_ behind their eyes. Their advance came to an abrupt halt.

The opaque visor of his helmet was set on their faces and he watched them reach for their weapons; Kessler pistols and old models at that. They would hardly graze his shields.

"Hold it right there!" One snapped, his hand lingering in what Garrus was sure was supposed to be an intimidating display over his sidearm.

Garrus barely spared the man a glance before his visor fixated on the goal he and his buddy guarded; the front entrance. Finally fed up with his unrelenting advance, the humans drew their guns, pointed them at him.

He was only feet away now.

“Spectre authority.” His omni-tool rose, flashing his omni-ID in time with his steps, still never slowing, but it was plenty of time for the men to see the ID and freeze. The lines of their body had stiffened with uncertainty. Spirits, saying that was almost better than sex. _'Well,'_ he considered, remembering the way Shepard could bend. _'Almost.'_

They didn't try to stop him again as he moved past them and soon, the front doors parted to admit his entrance into the lobby. There, his brain went into overdrive, pulling from the memory of the footage he'd watched countless times over. Garrus' eyes fell on the first order of business; the front desk. Passing that would bring him to the first corridor he needed to take.

“Excuse me, sir!” He heard the alarmed voice from the human behind the desk.

“Spectre authority,” he repeated, acknowledging them in the form of his glowing omni-ID.

He felt invincible.

“Where do you think you're going, turian?” Another human called after him as he rounded the third corner and walked briskly down the hallway.

“Spectre authority.”

He would make a right at the stock photo of the three trees, then another right at the drinking fountain and then a left at the third fire extinguisher. That corridor would end at the top of a dimly-lit, rather foreboding staircase that descended beneath the ground. His only light source was an eerie, red glow that reminded him of Omega. Now that was a review he was sure the hospital director would loathe to receive. _'Yes, the facilities reminded me of that life-swallowing beast that haunts the Terminus Systems.'_

Omega or human tales of 'hell.' The two were synonymous, as far as Garrus was concerned.

Fitting. He'd followed Shepard into hell already so it stands to reason that he'd be the one to drag her out.

Garrus hurried down the staircase before anyone else could try to stop him, pushing thoughts of a certain rotten space station from his mind as his blue and silver armor purpled in the red glow. Hopefully there was only one patient being kept in the depths of such hallowed tunnels.

Thankfully, little had changed from the footage he watched, which made navigating the hallways fairly simple. The only thing that could potentially trip him up was his own eagerness, leaving him open to making mistakes.

_'And really, where's the fun in a mission going off without a hitch?'_

At last, he rounded what he knew to be the final corner and set his eyes on the door at the end of the hallway. The very same door from the recording that had opened to reveal Shepard.

His vision blurred at the edges as he dashed down the hallway. When he reached the door, he couldn't be bothered to hack the terminal. He wanted that door open and he wanted it now.

Garrus reached down to the belt around his waist and withdrew a single sticky grenade from the clasps. He set it square in the middle of the door, took a few steps back, and raised his omni-tool. At the push of a button, the door was blown off its hinges and Garrus hurried through both the frame and the smokycloud that filled it. As he stepped past the threshold all pretenses of keeping his emotions at bay went up in the very flames that blasted the metal door from its frame. His eyes immediately landed on where he knew Shepard would be, but knowing she was there did little to abate his shock. His body ground to a halt as his mind raced, trying to piece together the image before him.

There she was; the woman he loved above all else. The one whose death nearly destroyed him twice over. She was alive and she was regarding him with a look that conveyed her surprise, not fear. Who else would blast a door down in a hospital if not one of her crew?

As the smoke swirled around him, ascending toward some air vents her expression began to change. Her surprise shifted to uncertainty as she took in his presence. That's when it occurred to the logical side of his brain that he was still wearing his opaque helmet, and not one she would recognize. He had acquired it, along with the rest of his armor, while on Palaven recovering downed Reapers. She didn't recognize him. Unfortunately, the rest of his brain had short circuited. All he could do was stand there and stare as her eyes tracked over his body, searching for any recognizable sign.

After her gaze climbed up the length of his body, her eyes landed on the sigil emblazoned on his right bicep. It was a sigil she would know as it was the very same he would engrave somewhere on almost every set of armor he owned as a tribute to his ill-fated team on Omega.

Archangel.

“Garrus.” His name was spoken by a voice that broke in a hoarse whisper, but there was no uncertainty in her tone as she breathed his name. She knew who he was.

 _'Shepard.'_ He still couldn't move.

 _“Garrus!_ ” She cried before her arms immediately went to work, grabbing the rails of her bed in order to pull herself up. It became clear to Garrus that she was willing to throw herself off the bed and drag her body across the floor to him if she had to.

She wouldn't have to because his own body went into motion the very instant hers did. As he crossed the floor, his hands came up to grab at his helmet, tearing it from his head and sending it on a one-way trip to the floor. He vaguely registered the dull _thunk_ it made when it met the bleached tile.

When he reached her at last, her burned hands instantly rose to cup his mandibles and his hands came down to cradle the sides of her head in kind. After that, the world fell away because all he could focus on was the feel of her lips against his maw. He knew he was pressing against her soft mouth too hard, but he couldn't bring himself to lighten up.

Shepard was here and she was warm and she was his and _Spirits_ , he missed her. He loved her.

Five fingers snaked to the back of his head to pull him closer despite the discomfort he was undoubtedly inflicting on her face. Apparently, she missed him too.

Garrus pulled his mouth away to indulge in his own show of affection by pressing his brow against hers and staring into her eyes earnestly. He breathed deeply, pulling her scent into his nasal cavity like oxygen and it hit him like a shot of adrenaline.

He felt alive again.

“Need an evac?” So long apart and that was the only thing he could think to say. Humor was always a tool he deferred to during times of stress, much to his father's chagrin. Garrus had embarrassed him more than once during inappropriate times. It was a habit that would only worsen during his time with his team on Omega and then again with the _Normandy_ crew.

Shepard's eyes closed and her breath hit his face in the form of hushed laughter. “Yes please.”

Garrus had learned quickly that it was a trait he shared with Shepard. It was what they initially bonded over on the SR1, after all.

Hands still gripping her face, he gave her a hard look, reminiscent of the one he shot her when she awoke on the shuttle floor while they fled the planet, Despoina. Giving her head a gentle shake, he would repeat what he said to her then as well.

“Never do that again.” Though, he couldn't recall his voice cracking as badly as it had now.

“I had t-”

 _“Do you hear me?”_ He snapped, subharmonics haywire with emotion. “ _Never_.”

“I'm sorry.”

With his brow pressed against her forehead, he could watch the water pooling in her eyes, making them glisten and shine in a way turian eyes cannot. She was so beautiful that he couldn't help the clawed thumb that rose to wipe the moisture that had streaked her cheeks. He watched the way her soft skin gave beneath his gloved talon, her tears collecting around the point as it dimpled her flesh.

Garrus' eyes flickered up to find her watching him, witnessing the intensity of his gaze on her cheek. He brought his mouth down against hers again to convey his forgiveness and swallowed the sob she'd released against his mouth. They would remain that way for several moments before Shepard broke the kiss. She looked him in the eye and said, “Get me out of here, Garrus.”

Garrus flicked his mandible, smiling despite the desperate keen he'd been unable to sedate from the moment he laid eyes on her. It was an order he was happy to follow. “You got it.”

Remembering the state of her legs from the recording, he glanced around for a wheelchair, but his search was fruitless. His eyes then fell on the walker positioned close to her bed. _'No. That wouldn't work either. Too slow.'_ He returned his attention to the woman that watched him through watery eyes- a sight reserved only for him. He gave her an expectant look, knowing that no words needed to be said, and waited for her consent. She gave an overly dramatic sigh and rolled her eyes- a few tears escaped at the motion- before she reached her hands up to rest them lightly on his shoulders.

“If you must,” she assented and it was all Garrus needed to hear. One arm scooped her beneath the backs of her knees and the other wrapped around her back before he lifted her easily off the cot. She was never heavy to him, but she certainly felt lighter than he remembered.

“Not quite sure what to do with my hands here, Garrus,” she admitted as she awkwardly patted the front of his cowl.

“What do humans normally do with them?”

“My arms would go around your neck like this-” she demonstrated, or attempted to. It became clear to Garrus how cumbersome his cowl was to her effort.

“Oh.” He remarked. “I guess you can just grab the rim.”

“Isn't that what turian children do?”

“Yes,” he told her as he turned away from the bed and realized the predicament he'd put himself in when he spotted his helmet lying inconveniently on the floor.

“How romantic,” she remarked sarcastically. Shepard sufficed by wrapping her arm, closest to his body, over his shoulder and she gripped the front of his cowl with the other.

“I learned from the best.” He gave her a pointed look and flicked his mandible into a glib smile. The music of Shepard's laughter was his reward.

He never thought he'd hear it again.

“Point taken,” she said.

His feet halted at his helmet and he glanced between the woman taking up the usage of his arms and the helmet on the floor. Shepard watched his dilemma with no small amount of amusement in her eyes.

“From what I've seen of your human romance vids- they're terrible, by the way- this is a pretty common scenario. Knight in shining armor rescuing the-”

“Don't say it,” she warned.

“What's the phrase?” His eyes scanned the ceiling as if to search for the answer above him. “I think it starts with a-”

“Vakarian.” Her mouth pulled into a thin line.

“No, not that. It's got three sounds,” he ignored her, making a show of thinking very hard for the phrase.

“I swear to god,” she grumbled and folded her arms across her chest, fixing him with narrowed eyes and a sour scowl.

“Damsel in distress!” He declared, far louder then he really should have. She opened her mouth, probably to tell him exactly where he could shove that term, but he pressed on before she could, “And you have every right to be after what you've been through. Let me save you for a change, Shepard. I'm pretty sure I owe you a few rescues.”

Her scowl faded in the wake of her radiant smile. “I'll accept payment in other ways,” she informed him, reaching behind his neck to nudge his head lower so she could brush her soft nose against his mandible. Her voice had dropped into a velvety range that never failed to get his blood pumping. It would seem time away from her had done little to change that.

With his helmet forgotten, he focused on the weight of her in his arms, the warmth of her body against his, the freckles that dusted her cheeks and nose. He wanted to reconnect with her now. Judging by the way her gaze had fixated on his eyes, something about them must have conveyed that to her.

“About that rescue,” she reminded him with a soft grunt to clear her throat. Her voice was no more than a hushed whisper, effectively snapping him from his licentious thoughts.

“Right.” Garrus blinked. “Forget the helmet. Let's get you out of here.”

The hem of her hospital gown whispered against the plating over his thighs as he carried her across the room. He was just about to pass through the mutilated door when she told him, “You know, if you crouched down, I could have grabbed it for you.”

 _'Damn.'_ His feet slowed briefly before resuming his hurried pace.

“I'll buy a new one.”

“Are you sure?”

He ran his eyes down the length of her body before returning to her face, finding that her cheeks had colored a delightful pink at the once-over. “Very sure.”

They stepped into the empty, red-lit corridor after that and Garrus' feet beat a hurried path for the staircase.

“Not exactly the most hospitable hospital I've ever been in.” Shepard scanned her surroundings, giving Garrus the impression that this was the first time she'd left that room since waking up in it.

“That's reassuring to hear. I've never been in a human hospital. Good to know this isn't standard procedure for your people.” Garrus flicked a mandible. “Honestly, it's nicer upstairs.”

"Exactly which hospital is this, anyway? They never told me."

"Vancouver General."

That answer earned him a rueful chuckle, followed by a quick, "Assholes." She tilted her chin up to catch the curious look he shot her in response to her rather personal-sounding reply. "According to my medical records, this is where I was born."

Shepard normally preferred not to speak of her background. Doing so usually distressed her, though she hid it well. It wasn't until they were months into their hunt for Saren, as well as three rounds into their tab at the bar, when she finally opened up to him about it. It wasn't a past she was proud of.

Garrus could only imagine what it felt like for her to encounter a moment, of her infancy no less, and discover it had been used against her by the very people she trusted. Garrus tightened his grip on her, momentarily pulling her body into his in what he hoped would be interpreted as a consoling squeeze.

"I doubt most of the staff even know you were down here.”

“A few did,” she told him, disdain coloring her tone. She looked away from him, her gaze focusing on his feet, watching his steps. "I don't understand, Garrus. Why would the Alliance do this to me?"

The weight of her betrayal felt heavy in his arms.

“I wish I had an answer for you, Shepard," he told her honestly. "But it doesn't matter.” Garrus spoke soothingly in a way he knew she appreciated. He had long since perfected the art of comforting Commander Shepard over the years. “You'll be gone after today.”

They had rounded two corners and Garrus knew they were closing in on the staircase to take them up to the main floor. His recollection was supported by the map his visor supplied him, tracked from the distance he had covered earlier. Oh _ **,**_ the sight they would make; an armed and armored turian carrying the galaxy's lost war hero out into the public eye. The press was going to shit themselves, but hopefully they will have made their escape by the time word got out.

“Garrus?” Shepard's voice was a hushed breath that left a spot of condensation against his chest.

“Hm?”

“How did you find me?” There was the question Garrus dreaded answering. He didn't want to discuss Victus right now. He was too happy to get pissed off so soon.

At his silence Shepard pressed. “Garrus.”

Upon hearing the use of his name, Garrus glanced down at her. “We get out of here and I promise to tell you the whole damn thing.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “Classified, then.”

“Glad we're on the same page.”

“Aren't we always?”

No, not always. Garrus could think of a few examples in which they were not on the same page at all. Old mechs and treacherous oceans came to mind, but just as Garrus opened his mouth to give voice to those thoughts a third one reverberated from the staircase they were approaching. “The turian came down here, sir!” It sounded angry.

The sound of armored boots, and lots of them, came stomping down the steps. The staccato was frenzied, panicked, and Garrus knew that evoking his new-found _authority_ might not have the same effect it had last time.

“Friends of yours?” Shepard asked, skepticism coloring her tone as she cast a reproachful look at the staircase.

“No,” He turned and hurried in the opposite direction.

“There he is!” One shouted as Garrus rounded the far corner and barreled down the hallway. “Hold it!”

Ignoring them, Garrus broke into a sprint as he picked the next corner and pivoted around it, throwing Shepard and him down the next hallway. He did his best not to jostle her too much as he ran and though she made a valiant effort to hide her discomfort, he saw right through it. He whispered a rapid string of apologies to her, they fell from his mouth in time with his footfalls. All the while his visor flickered readouts across his eye, feeding him a satellite layout of the building.

Armored boots thundered behind them.

“Those are Alliance soldiers,” Shepard observed, glancing over his should just as Garrus put another wall between them and their pursuers.

“Yeah.”

“Garrus.”

A pistol barked and a small chunk of wall exploded just feet ahead of them. A warning shot, Garrus knew, but he instinctively curled in around Shepard's body anyway to shield her from any more bullets that might clip them from behind.

“By Alliance Command, I order you to stop!” Barked one of the soldiers.

According to his visor, the hallways were all connected at some point, which was both good and bad. Good because it meant they couldn't be cornered and they could eventually find their way back to the staircase. Bad because they could easily get headed off should their pursuers call for reinforcements and, by the urgent chatter he heard behind them, that was a likely scenario.

Another chunk of plaster erupted from the wall ahead of them. Another warning shot and Garrus understood how those might be in short supply.He flinched from the dust as he barreled through it and Shepard raised a protective hand over her eyes.

Another shot, closer this time. It would seem the warning shot supply was shorter than he hoped.

“That's it,” Shepard grumbled before he felt her shift in his arms. She reached over his shoulder and realization of her intent dawned on him when she enclosed her tiny fingers around the stock of his rifle. He kept running as she undid the clasp securing it and attempted to hoist it over his shoulder. It was heavy, built for a turian's arm, but thanks to her cybernetics Shepard was a human that could handle it. Well, at least she was before she had to lay sedentary in a hospitable bed for months. He felt the weight of the gun wobble worryingly, forcing him to slow down so she could heft it into her lap. He tried to keep his attention on both the floor space in front of them and the information on his visor, but he couldn't help risking a glance down to watch Shepard as she puzzled out the best hand placement for supporting such a weighted gun. Her mouth was set in a grim frown. Undoubtedly, the weight of the rifle was proving more than her unused muscles could handle and she stared at it with her eyebrows knitted in concentration; a problem for Commander Shepard to solve.

True to form, she solved it.

She maneuvered the rifle so that she could shove the gunstock into his shoulder and simply use her hands to brace it. His curled arm fortuitously acted to take some additional pressure from her hands.

“Garrus, turn around.” It was an order, delivered by the tone Garrus knew not to argue with. Obediently, he whipped around quickly, running backwards for little more than a second. It was all the time he needed to feel his Widow recoil into his shoulder and see red blood erupt from the shin of the first human to step around the corner.

The human wailed as he went down, not knowing how lucky he really was. Garrus had no doubt that the non-lethal shot was intentional.

The Commander was fed up, but she was merciful, clean, and surgical.

There were two more shots in the rifle and Garrus knew to turn around the instant he heard more footsteps catch up to the fallen soldier. One shot went into a dominate hand wielding a pistol and the last one in the clip found its home in the shoulder of the third human.

“Shots fired! Shots fired!” He heard one of the humans bellow.

Garrus heard the thermal clip _clink_ red-hot on the tiles behind them after Shepard ejected it from the gun.

“Right hip,” he informed her, knowing she'd be wanting to reload the gun.

“Think I forgot where you keep your stash, Vakarian?” She quipped with a mischievous smirk, briefly deviating his attention from the pain in her eyes.

Spirits, he loved her.

Shepard reached for his hip, withdrew a clip from its respective pouch, and inserted it into the Widow. She then waited for the sound of more footsteps and, upon hearing them, Garrus whipped around before she even needed to tell him to do so. The connection he had with her was as strong as it ever was, and working with her again felt good. Damn good. The sight of her perfect shots felt even better. The Widow roared, ramming into his shoulder with the fervor of an enthusiastic lover and three more wails rang off the walls.

“Don't suppose your escape plan goes a little more beyond _run for our lives?_ ” Shepard asked him, reloading the Widow again as Garrus hurdled around another corner. Another chunk of plaster sprayed from the wall, this time too close to be anything but a simple miss.

Garrus threw himself sideways, through an open door, curling protectively around Shepard and allowing his back to absorb the impact of his fall. Mercifully, she had a tight hold on his precious Widowand it never met the ground the way his body did. He groaned at the feeling, but knew better than to dwell on his discomfort. His grip tightened on Shepard as he scrambled to his feet without the use of his hands and rushed for a door opposite of the one he'd barreled through. It spat the duo out into another hallway and Garrus ran on.

“Still working on it,” he grunted.

“Got it.” She nodded. Then: “Turn.”

And he turned.

The Widowroared three more times.

According to his visor, they were nearing the staircase again. Hopefully their hunters, as Shepard would put it, would _give up the ghost_ once they emerged around other patients. He tried not to dwell too long on the fact that he was hoping to use the presence of other- _innocent_ \- people to keep them safe. When had he devolved to using living shields?

_'When it came down to them or Shepard.'_

He sprinted around a corner and found the staircase again. His heart hammered against his ribs while the muscles in his legs screamed their protest at having been pushed past their limit.

“Getting a little winded, Big Guy?”

“Not helping, Shepard.”

His heart hammered and then fell when his ear canal caught the sound of thundering boots coming from the top of the staircase accompanied by loud, angry voices.

“ _Shit_ ,” the turian and human cursed in unison.

Garrus skidded to a stop and turned to run the other direction. _Again,_ but was stopped by the sight of Alliance soldiers rounding the corner; too many for Shepard to shoot with his Widow. His feet came to an abrupt halt.

With soldiers advancing on them from both front and behind, they were trapped in the middle. Garrus gripped Shepard's body, pulling her tightly against his chest, wishing he could somehow absorb her beneath his plates and protect her. He doubted they would kill her, but they would certainly trap her again.

_'Over my dead body.'_

His eyes narrowed in a menacing glare at their adversaries and a vicious growl ripped from deep within his chest, vibrating through Shepard's back. She glanced up at him- just a brief look, but it was all Garrus needed to understand the meaning.

 _'It's alright, Big Guy,'_ her eyes said. _'It's Shepard and Vakarian. To the very end.'_

His arms hugged her even tighter to his chest, knowing the pressure had to be disrupting her breathing, but he couldn't help it. She didn't seem inclined to complain.

 _'Shepard and Vakarian to the end.'_ There was peace in that.

“Stand down!” A rough voice bellowed from atop the stairs. “Stand down, I say!”

Garrus recognized the voice, though it didn't belong to someone he knew very well. He rotated on the spot to watch a man, dressed in Admiral blues, descend the staircase behind the rows of armed soldiers. Men stepped aside to allow him passage so that he could work his way to the front and come face to face with the Commander and her turian.

“This man is a Spectresent by the Council!” He loudly explained to the sea of confused faces.

Garrus felt Shepard's eyes flicker up at him at the title, but he ignored it. His gaze was only for the male human in front of him.

“Apologies, Commander,” he nodded at Shepard and _not_ at the turian that had done the actual bullet-dodging. Garrus glared at him. “I only just got here after speaking with the Councilor.” Garrus didn't miss the note of bitterness he detected in the admiral's voice at the mention of the title. Undoubtedly, his exchange with Victus could not have been a pleasant one.

“Coats,” Shepard uttered the name slowly, testing her memory of it.

“Yes, Commander,” he confirmed with a curt nod. “You'll find the effects you were recovered with in the main office. And you, Spectre,” he turned cold eyes onto Garrus and raised his omni-tool. “You'll be needing this code at the docking bay in London. Your... _designated_ _ship_ will be waiting for you there.” He finished the last sentence with a sneer so severe that Garrus would have thought uttering the words made him sick. Upon closer inspection, he saw that Coats stared out through stricken eyes set in an ashen face; he was scared. Terrified.

From his office on Palaven, Victus had reached across solar systems to sink his talons into the back of the human before him, using him to manipulate events as an extension of himself. As _he_ saw fit. All around Garrus, guns lowered, adhering their admiral's order and, by proxy, the Councilor's. They bent and swayed like trees caught in the wind of a merciless hurricane, the landscape forever changed.

Garrus suppressed a shiver.

“Thank you, Admiral." Shepard nodded, though her tone was anything but thankful. Garrus took that as his cue to step around the glaring admiral and walk slowly toward the staircase bordered by a wall of scowling faces and gleaming rifles. Thankfully, the said scowling faces parted so that they could pass, but the heads they were plastered on turned to follow him as Archangel ascended the depths of hell.

True to his word, they found Shepard's things in the main office. Granted, there wasn't much left to find except charred armor -Garrus didn't want to look too closely at that- and her cooked omni-tool. He had set her down in a chair as he rifled through the locker, searching for the one thing he knew she'd want back. It took him a few minutes before he fished his prize out of the locker and held it up for her to see. Her silver dog tags.

Garrus didn't miss the way her jaw clenched as her eyes fell on the gleaming metal dangling from his fingers. He crossed the room, spreading the chain out across both hands and held the necklace out to her like an offering. After a couple seconds, her clenched jaw loosened and a small, accepting smile graced her features.

Carefully, he looped the thin chain over her head and draped it loosely around her neck. He took his time, tracing his fingers down her neck, watching the flesh prickle in the wake of his gloved talons until his fingers found the plates at the end of the chain and he tucked them into the top of her hospitable gown. With his hands still on the fabric of her gown, his gaze traveled up from its place on her collarbone- a favorite spot of his- and found her watching him with a level of intensity he'd never experienced from another person.

Nobody looked at him the way she did.

All at once, the empty feeling he'd been harboring for months filled in with the piece he'd been missing and he was powerless to stop himself from pressing his hard mouth against her soft one. He was also too weak to stop the feeble groan he emitted against her mouth when he heard her sigh into his kiss.

Her hands cupped his mandibles, holding him in place as she deepened their kiss by dragging the tip of her tongue across the outline of his mouth.

“Spirits,” he breathed, pulling away before he took her right there in the office. He allowed himself a moment to catch his breath before he told her, “I missed you.”

Shepard huffed a feeble laugh and she squeezed her eyes shut. It was her way of holding back an onslaught of tears, Garrus knew. When they reopened, shining in the way human eyes do, she said, “I missed you too, Garrus.”

He pretended not to notice the crack in her voice.

Later, after he helped her into the passenger seat of his rental skycar and took to the air, he glanced over to watch as she scaled down her dark window.

A horrible, elcor version of an old human song played on the sound system.

_"With unbridled passion: Take me home tonight. I don't want to let you go until you see the light."_

Shepard spared the radio a perplexed look before she looked up and caught him staring. Then, a radiant smile split her face and she shoved her arm out the open window, smiling at the cool, damp air that pelted against her scarred skin and left her loose-fitting sleeve billowing in the wind. He saw her five fingers spread, shaking against the force of the air that hit them and she started to chuckle. At first, it was little more than a soft chortle, but it quickly grew in volume when she laid her head back against the seat. It was roaring laughter mixed with two parts joy and sorrow and Garrus doubted if even she knew which emotion was most prominent. Yet, she expressed them both and he felt honored to be the one she chose to witness it.

He smiled at her, but she was still laughing too hard to notice. It didn't matter. Garrus turned his eyes onto the horizon, his grin never failing, and watched their destination grow more and more prominent.

Commander Shepard was a free woman.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My plan was to finish and post this all in one go, but the holidays and work have made it very difficult to write for any extended period of time. However, I have written ahead so I'm hoping for a consistent Thursday/Friday update schedule. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another massive thank you to the lovely [shretl (Girlundone)](http://archiveofourown.org/users/girlundone/pseuds/shretl) for beta reading my chapters. She's a very talented writer with a wonderful fic, [A Case of You](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12684042/chapters/28920486) that takes a unique and in-depth look into the wonderful relationship of Garrus and Shepard, and who they are as characters.

Garrus and Shepard abandoned the skycar in favor of a much faster, private shuttle. The flight from Vancouver, across the ocean to London, would be an eight hour flight. Thankfully the shuttle was self-driving, needing only the destination punched into the interface for it to operate. They- or rather Garrus- primarily passed the time by sleeping. He was exhausted after his excursion at the hospital.

“I've slept enough,” Shepard told him after he expressed his concerns for her own sleep. She then bumped her shoulder playfully against his and said, “You go on. I've got first watch.”

The call of sleep was alluring, but no more than she herself was. Garrus longed to be close to her, to sleep with his head resting in her lap and her hand stroking the top of his fringe, but when they tried, the muscles in her legs protested at the pressure placed upon them. She made a valiant effort to ignore the discomfort, but when Garrus cracked an eye open and caught her wincing he sat up immediately. He settled for the empty bench across from her.

It was a restless sleep that Garrus fell into and he had a feeling it would remain that way until he had Shepard safely off planet, away from the Alliance. He didn't like closing his eyes without the feel of her body against his for fear that she wouldn't be there when he opened them again. Mercifully, he found her each time he woke, staring pensively out the window. He took a private moment to watch her without sitting up, marveling at the very presence of her because she was _alive_.

“Safe enough to answer my question now?” He'd been caught. She never looked at him, but somehow noticed his wakefulness all the same. It was scary how good she was at that, a sign of a master infiltrator. She could observe someone without them ever knowing they were being watched.

His fatigued mind didn't immediately follow.

At his silence, she reiterated. “How you found me?” She turned her head to look at him then, the vista out her window forgotten if she had even been watching it at all. “You got the information from that agent, didn't you?” It was a statement, not a question.

Garrus slowly sat up from his seat. “Yes,” he nodded. “Victus sent her.”

“I figured as much.” Of course she did. “I've never met a Black Watch agent, but the name doesn't exactly inspire a sense of openness and the turian that visited me didn't exactly strike me as an extrovert. Only the Primarchs have authority over the Black Watch, right? I don't know many Primarchs so it was pretty easy to put the pieces together.”

Garrus wasn't ready to talk about Victus. He could already feel his irritation bubbling to the surface at the mere mention of the barefaced diplomat he'd become. Still, Shepard had a right to know. “He was the one that found out you were alive. I don't exactly know how, but it had something to do with an SOS signal he received after a communication with Hackett.”

“Hackett?" Surprised, Shepard gave him a wide-eyed look. It then melted away to be replaced by a mischievous smile. “I guess I owe him a drink then. He visited me a few times, but I never thought he would...” She trailed off to pull the inside of her bottom lip between her teeth; an old, decidedly Shepard habit.

“If _you_ owe him a drink, Victus must owe him twelve. Turns out it was a warning that the Alliance was sending a hitman to kill him-"

"They what?"

Garrus nodded gravely, knowing how much she hated hearing what her beloved Alliance had become. "Well, they had help from the Primarch of Invictus."

"Why?" She asked, tone hushed with disbelief.

"If Victus ever found out, he hasn't told me."

"Why would he tell you?"

Garrus instantly regretted his slip. Not only because the subject irritated him, but because he would have to explain how their friendship began. He would have to tell her what her death did to him and how Victus took it upon himself to help him through it because he knew what it was like to lose the person you bonded to. He had yet to have that conversation with Shepard and now was certainly not the time.

He must have takentoo long to answer because Shepard drew her own conclusion from his silence. "I take it you saw a lot of the Primarch after the war."

Garrus barely managed to suppress a snort. "I saw far more of that man than I ever needed to." Shepard's copper brows knitted together, her expression puzzled. "By that, I mean I worked closely with him for a time." He quickly rephrased, picturing the gutter her thoughts were heading. "Got my Reaper Task Force going again and used it to start tracking down all the fallen Reaperson Palaven so we could tag them and send them on a one-way trip into Trebia- the Primarch's order."

Shepard made a hum of approval despite the withdrawn lines of her body. "I knew I liked that turian."

Garrus huffed a laugh. "I told him you'd approve." For a brief moment, his anger at his former friend had abated, replaced by a sudden surge of fond memories. He almost followed up his words with ' _he liked you too_ ,' but refrained when his last conversation with the newly elected Councilor came to mind.

 _'A commodity,'_ he'd called her.

She was eyeing him curiously so he pressed on with his story. "Anyway, by the time they sent the assassin, Black Watch had already been dispatched. After that it was simply a matter of waiting for the proper intel to come back." He flared a mandible, forming a waggish smirk.  "I guess Victus took offense to the attempt on his life because he came to me with the footage and then executed the Invictus Primarch.” Embarrassed, he rested his hand on the back of his neck, feeling the heat rise as he prepared to explain, “He-uh... made me a Spectre after that so I could come get you.”

Shepard's eyes gleamed brilliantly as a bright grin lit up her face. Garrus had to remind himself to breath. “I thought I heard Coat's say... Damn, Vakarian. It finally happened, huh?”

“It did.” Garrus' mandible flicked into a humorous grin. “And it only took Armageddon to make it happen.”

She chuckled softly, her expression warm. “Spectre Vakarian,” she uttered slowly, testing the sound of it on her tongue. “That's going to take some getting used to.” A small hand rose to trail delicately across his mandible, making him shiver. “But I like it.”

Garrus cleared his throat, feeling the heat on his neck more than ever now as well as the burning paths her fingers left. “Please, it's just-”

“Garrus to me?” Her grin never faltered as she uttered the words he'd said to her the last time they were reunited after her death. She met his gaze with indomitable eyes, bright with a passion she held only for him. This was his Shepard. Not a clone. Not a replica. This was the woman he had fallen so hard for without even knowing that he had.

“What?” Her smile faded then, a question in her eyes and Garrus realized he was staring. Then he was on his feet, crossing the small span of floor to her in a single stride and he was on her. His mouth found hers and his knees found the edge of the bench. He felt her hand slide up the back of his neck, beneath his fringe and knew he couldn't wait anymore. His body screamed to join with her own.

Garrus drew his talons up the outsides of her thighs and then up under her hospitable gown, relishing the way she gasped into his mouth when his fingers slid over the curve of her hips. She wore nothing underneath, nothing to get in his way and he growled when his grip found her slender waist. He was desperate to be close to her, eager to be inside her and his body instinctively rolled his armored groin against her pelvis while his hands slid up to support her back as he lowered her to the bench-

“ _Ouch_ ,” she hissed, bringing his advances to a grinding standstill.

He quickly pulled away from her mouth, the taste of her lingering on his tongue, and asked, “What's wrong?”

Her face was still contorted in a painful grimace, which drove Garrus further away. “Sorry,” she grunted. “Everything still hurts a little. My legs and lower back, mostly.”

Of course she was still hurting. She had been in a coma for how long while she recovered? He knew, from the footage, the doctors were putting her through physical therapy, but he knew that in of itselfwas helland she had to suffer through it alone without the support of those who loved her. He shrunk away from her, ashamed of himself for not considering the current fragile state of her body.

“It's alright, Garrus.” She reached for his scarred mandible to cup her palm against it. Despite himself, he leaned into her hand, desperate for her touch. “You didn't do anything wrong.” He looked away from her, but she wouldn't be deterred. He felt pressure from her fingers, directing his wandering eyes back to her. “I just need a little more time to heal, that's all.”

Garrus nodded against the palm of her hand, still feeling embarrassed at his rashness, but he would wait for as long as she needed to. The last thing he ever wanted to do was cause her pain and he wordlessly sealed that vow to her by pressing his mouth against the delicate skin of her wrist; One of her favorite spots to be kissed, he remembered.

“Did I hurt you back there? When I was carrying you?”

Her mouth pressed into a tight line, an indication that she was reluctant to answer. After a moment, she nodded. “A little, but the adrenaline helped." The grim line of her mouth softened, the corner tugging up. "That, and it felt damn good to shoot again. Not exactly what the doctor ordered, but..."

"Which reminds me, you did realize I had two pistols you could have used instead, right?"

"Sure I did, but I felt more comfortable with a scope to look into. I figured I'd do less-well... _permanent_ damage applying my aim to my weapon of choice."

"I'm pretty sure I saw a few hands go flying," Garrus reminded her.

"Maybe." Shepard frowned, thoughtful. "Still better than losing a head. Besides, I _really_ like your gun.” Her eyes wandered to the opposite bench where the beloved rifle in question laid.

Garrus followed her gaze and then emitted a playful growl. “Afraid she's spoken for, Shepard. She may have cooperated with you back there, but it was a pity date, I assure you. She knows who her true master is.”

“I don't know, Vakarian. It felt damn good in my hands.”

He didn't miss the way her eyes darted towards his groin, a pointed look she knew he'd catch and she laughed when she met his gaze.

“We're not talking about guns anymore, are we?” Shepard replied with a shrug, her mouth quirked in an easy smile. “You're cruel.”

They spent the last hour of the ride side by side, reveling in the presence of the other. Garrus had to remind himself to stop staring, though he couldn't help the glances he'd steal every now and again when he thought she wasn't looking and he'd privately celebrate when he caught her doing the same.

Every touch from her, even ones as innocent as a brush of the hand against his own, left him burning with want. Shepard always had a way of reducing him to a horny teenager during their private moments. Though, after a year of no real intimacy with anyone, it came to him as a slight relief that his body was still capable.

Sure, he tried moving on after he met a pretty turian woman named, Cybele. She was a nice girl that seemed to truly care for him even after that embarrassing night when they tried to take their relationship to the next step. Unfortunately, Garrus' body refused to respond. No matter what she did or how she touched him, her hard plates and sharp angles just didn't do it for him anymore. He remembered closing his eyes as she straddled him, hating himself as he thought of Shepard, but when he habitually brought his hands up to her chest and they closed around empty air, he knew the effort was in vain.

 _'It's alright,'_ she told him, bending from her place atop his hips to brush her brow against his. _“We can try a_ _gain another time.”_

Cybele was sweet, and so understanding. She deserved better than a man who up and left her the second he got wind of the other woman. She deserved someone who could actually bond with her. She deserved someone capable of looking at her the way he looked at Shepard now. Someone to marvel at the gleam of her plates the way he marveled at the copper halo that would appear on Shepard's head when the sun hit her hair. Someone to trace the lines of her colony markings the way he loved to do to the freckles on Shepard's cheeks and nose, especially the ones she, herself, wasn't capable of seeing with her human eyes.

 _'What are you staring at?'_ she'd ask him, playfully swatting his hand away.

 _'You have bigger spots on your forehead.'_ He told her, ignoring her repel to poke at them with the tip of a talon. _'Here. And here.'_

 _'I do?'_ She exclaimed, leaping naked from the bed to check her mirror in the bathroom, only to reemerge with a puzzled look on her face. That was the day Garrus learned that he knew more about Shepard's body than even she did.

He was interrupted from his thoughts when his omni-tool suddenly lit up. He glanced down and saw a message from someone he'd regrettably ignored since he left the _Normandy_ and her crew behind on Earth all those months ago.

 **J. Moreau [London, Earth]**  
**1432**  
**So I just heard a funny story. Apparently some big, angry turian just waltzed into a hospital in Vancouver, armed like The Terminator, and walked back out carrying Shepard! You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?**

Garrus flicked his mandibles.

 **G. Vakarian [Atlantic Ocean, Earth]**  
**1432**  
**Can't say I've heard that one yet. Honestly, Jeff I'm insulted that you automatically assume I'd know the guy. I don't know every turian in the Galaxy, but if I did I'd say he's probably in need of a good pilot right now. By th** **e way, I don't suppose you'd know a guy?**

 **J. Moreau [London, Earth]**  
**1433**  
**You know what? I think I do. He's usually** _**really** _ **busy being important and all, but I bet I can convince him to clear his schedule. He'll meet you at Dock 23 at London Port.**

“Who is it?” Garrus looked up at the question and held his wrist out to Shepard so she could take in the holo-screen of his omni-tool.

“I might have secured us a pilot,” he told her.

“Joker.” She smiled at the name, but it wasn't to last. It faded faster than a child watching a moxie devour their dessert. Shepard's eyes locked onto his and she breathed a single name: “Edi.”

Garrus felt his mandibles pinch against his jaw. That was another subject he wasn't keen to discuss with Shepard. She recognized the meaning behind it and she leaned towards him, her look growing sharp.

“She... went down the night the Reapers did.”

While he and the _Normandy_ crew were marooned on that planet, Garrus lost count of the number of times he thought to himself, _'This would be so much easier with_ _EDI.'_

Over the years, Garrus had developed a habit of ribbing the _Normandy_ pilot with playful jokes about his condition. Looking back, they probably weren't very funny, but they were often in response to some turian-stick-up-your-ass joke from him. It was playful banter between them. Then Edi went down and Shepard was lost and, as it turned out, Joker was the stronger one between the two of them.

When the dust settled and the _Normandy_ laid dormant in the mud, Joker immediately set to work towards repairing the vessel. Garrus, to his regret, wallowed in his grief. Crushed underneath the immense guilt he harbored over leaving Shepard behind, he nearly starved himself alone in the cabin he had shared with her. Then Tali forced her way in and made him get a hold of himself.

 _'We don't know anything yet, you bosh'tet!'_ She grabbed him by the front of his cowl and shook him. _'And we won't learn anything unless we get off this stupid planet. Now, are you going to help me with these couplin_ _gs or not?'_

For a while, he had hope again. All they had to do was get back to Earth...

Then they got back to Earth. It was all downhillfrom there.

Garrus watched the array of emotions flicker across Shepard's face, last of which was grief. She raised a shaky hand to cover her eyes and she turned away from him to face the window. Guilt, he recognized. He suspected that it had something to do with what happened after she... after she left him behind, but he doubted she wanted to talk about it now. So instead of asking, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and drew her to his side. He rested his maxilla against the top of her head and, for a second, mused at how he never thought he'd miss the feeling of her hair tangled around his mandible.

“We can bring her back, Shepard,” he told her, feeling how she began to shake with grief. “I don't know how, but we will."

 

* * *

 

After their shuttle made a smooth landing in London, Shepard recoiled from the window. Garrus gave her a puzzled look, but then remembered the message he had exchanged with Joker. News had undoubtedly spread about Commander Shepard's survival and Garrus didn't have to open the hatch to know there was a sea of reporters waiting just outside.

"You don't have to talk to them," he reminded her gently, placing a comforting hand on her knee.

"They're not going to make ignoring them easy," she countered, resigned to her fate.

"No," he agreed. "But I'm not going to make getting near you easy either." His sub-harmonics hummed a tune that would be soothing for a turian, but the resonance was too low for Shepard to hear. Garrus intentionally kicked the sound up and then reached for her hand to lay it gently against his throat so that she could feel them. Her eyes lingered on his throat before they rose to meet his gaze, a nervous smile cracking through.

"Do you trust me?" He asked, knowing the answer.

Predictably, she responded with a firm, "Yes."

"Good. I'm right behind you." He stooped to gingerly gather her in his arms again, careful not to jostle her. He would send for their things to be transferred to their new ship once she was safely passed the horde. Feeling Shepard's back pressed against his armor, he couldn't help flicking his mandible into a smirk and adding, "Literately."

Shepard released a breath of laughter though her nose, which Garrus almost missed beneath the sound of the hatch hissing open as it lowered to form a ramp. Before it had even reached the half-way point to the ground, flashbulbs started igniting in their faces. He felt Shepard press into him and didn't miss the steadying breath she sucked in.

Shepard didn't care for talking with reporters, it was always something she would do grudgingly, but this was different. It wasn't the voices she was recoiling from; it was the hundreds of flashes. Drones _whirred_ up to them, their lenses shifting as they focused in on their faces. Garrus didn't care for the flashes either. They made him think of machine turrets on gunships and rockets. Torn plates and flesh as his blood sprayed from his neck and face while his eyes struggled to see past the flash of light. But his trauma was old. It had time to heal and scar over in the lines of flesh that marred his face. Shepard's aversion to explosions was new and, judging by the still-healing burn marks on her body, recent.

A comforting hum resonated anew from his second larynx and with Shepard held against him, he knew she could feel it as he took his first step down the hatch-turned-ramp. Camera drones were hot on his heels, zipping around their heads dizzily while they both ignored the hundreds of questions lobbed at them.

_"Commander Shepard, where have you been?"_

_"Commander Shepard, are you alright?"_

_"We just have a few questions, Commander!"_

Shepard's bare toes brushed against coats and camera lenses as the crowd pressed in on them suffocatingly. Her face was a stern mask of indifference, but he could see the tenseness around her eyes, the thin line of her mouth. She was putting on a brave face, but the ordeal was proving to be a tremendous amount of stress on her.

_"Commander Shepard, the Galaxy needs to know what happened the night the Reapers were defeated!"_

_"What happened on the Citadel?"_

_"Is it true that you're dating this turian?"_

Garrus dipped his mouth near her ear and mumbled, "You know, I still have my Widow on my back if you're up for some more target practice. I'm willing to share her again."

He was rewarded by a smile that had forced its way to the surface. Stress was still evident on her face, but her eyes told him that his joke was appreciated. Thankfully, the crowd around them was made up of mostly humans so Garrus had little trouble scanning above their heads for their destination. He read the signs as he passed them.

_"Garrus! Garrus Vakarian, are you and Commander Shepard a couple?"_

**Docking Bay 19**

_"How did you know where to find her?"_

**Docking Bay 20**

_"There are rumors that Councilor Victus had a hand in this, Mr. Vakarian. Can you confirm or deny that?"_

**Docking Bay 21**

_"What is your relationship with the Councilor?"_

**Docking Bay 22.**

"We're almost there," he told her, suppressing his own anxiety that threatened to seep into his voice.

Garrus shoved his way through the crowd without pausing to apologize for every foot he stepped on or every chin his elbows scraped. Finally, he approached the front desk that was set up in front of the door marked, Docking Bay 23. Garrus began to shift Shepard so that he could flash his omni-ID, but the receptionist waved him through, likely expecting his arrival. As Garrus made his way around the desk and through the doors, he heard the man stand from his desk and shout, "No reporters past this line!"

The steel door shut between them with a finality that silenced the pandemonium behind them. All that could be heard of the ongoing commotion was a low drone through the metal, which was easy to ignore in favor of the sight before them. Garrus froze as he and Shepard feasted their eyes on their _designated_ ship.

The _Normandy_ , in all her pristine glory, was docked like she was waiting for them to come home.

_'It's been too long, girl.'_

And standing -the best he could- in front of the vessel's entryway was her pilot. He was dressed in his Alliance uniform, his standard SR2 cap adorning his head and big grin on his face.

"I heard you were in the market for a pilot," he told them on their approach, eyes flickering between Garrus and Shepard.

"Might be," said Shepard, trying-and failing, for mock professionalism. Her joy at seeing her pilot again ruled the emotions on both her face and voice. "What are your credentials?"

Joker gingerly shifted his weight to his other leg. "Well, in 2183 I executed a rather impressive Mako drop on a little-knownplanet called Ilos. I had a Spectre on board, who needed it done and I was the man for the job-" Joker's voice changed to an embarrassing falsetto that Garrus could only assume was supposed to be Shepard. " _-Help us, Joker_ , she said. _You're our only hope!_ " Shepard snorted and shook her head in amusement. The pilot held up a hand and began listing off his exploits, using his fingers to count them. "I also led a fleet against the first Reaper to attack the Citadel, I'm the first pilot to fly a ship through the Omega 4 relay _and_ return, my ship was at the head of the whole Galactic Fleet for Earth and... Oh yeah. That Spectre I mentioned earlier? It was Commander Shepard, I flew for. No biggie."

"Commander Shepard, huh?" Shepard glanced up at Garrus questioningly. "You heard of her?"

Garrus tilted his head to the side and pretended to look thoughtful. "I might've heard a thing or two about her. Here and there."

"Should we hire him?"

" _Hm_ , I suppose a trial run couldn't hurt."

Joker rolled his eyes, but the smirk he wore betrayed his amusement. Then he did something Garrus had never seen the pilot do. He straightened his back- a trying task for him, and squared his shoulders before snapping the most militaristic salute Garrus had ever seen coming from him. His eyes were fixed firmly on Shepard's and his smirk faded. "Welcome aboard, Commander." The relief was palpable in his flat, human voice even without subharmonics and Garrus had to remind himself that he was hardly the only one who missed Shepard and mourned her.

Shepard returned the salute, an act that probably would have looked more impressive had she not been cradled in his arms. "Thanks. It's good to be back."

 

* * *

 

There were several events that occurred in his life that Garrus knew would be painted in his memories for the rest of his days. Unsurprisingly, Shepard had the starring role in about ninety percent of them. She wasn't exactly the type of person someone could forget. One such moment was when Shepard came crawling out from under the debris on the Citadel after Sovereign came crashing down on them. Another was when she slid along the ground on her belly, snatching his hand just as he went toppling over the edge of a collapsing platform in the Collector Base and then, subsequently, he returned the favor when she took that flying leap to the _Normandy's_ hatch. A common thread that tied the memories together was adrenaline; Snippets in time when he was breathless throughout all of them. Yet, as he calmly carried Shepard through the _Normandy's_ CIC, watching the lights dance across her freckled skin as she took it all in with a sort of reverence in her eyes, he had to remind himself to breathe. This, he knew, would be such a moment.

Garrus dipped his head, placing his mouth close to her ear and rumbled, "Welcome home, Shepard." Privately, he took pride in the way the flesh on her arm prickled at the close proximity of his voice. That was certainly something he missed.

Joker had alerted Dr. Chakwas the instant he established communications with Garrus and she was waiting for them at her post in the med-bay. Shepard groaned when they stepped off the lift and rounded the corner to approach the door.

"Just couldn't wait to get me back here, huh, G?" Shepard fixed him with a dry look.

Garrus flicked a mandible. "Don't blame me. You know she'd just come looking for you if I didn't."

"Benedict Arnold," she mumbled, her face pouting in the way only humans could. Garrus' steps slowed, confused at the name, and took mental note to look it up later.

When the doors to the med-bay opened and Dr. Chakwas turned in her seat to regard them, all pretenses of Shepard's ire dissipated instantly. The older woman's eyes traveled up and down Shepard's body, a clinical evaluation for her work ahead, but there was a wonder in her gaze as well. If Garrus didn't know any better, he'd say that the good doctor had not dared to believe the story that her favorite patient -thoughshe'd never admit that aloud- was alive and mostly well. However, the tender moment was quick to pass and the doctorwas all business once again. Detached and efficient.

"Place her over here, if you would, Garrus." She gestured to one of the hospital beds that she had clearly just prepped with clean, white sheets. "Thank you."

Shepard crossed her arms and shot the said table a withering look as Garrus approached it. Ever the star patient. "Here I thought you'd be happy to see me, Karin."

"You'll get your greeting after your evaluation," was all the response Dr. Chakwas gave, her thoughts preoccupied by all the tools she was drawing from their respective drawers. Garrus always admired the way the Dr. Chakwas could handle their Commander, even during her most prickly moments.

With Shepard safely in Dr. Chakwas' care and, really, there was no one he'd trust more to leave her with, Garrus gave her arm a gentle squeeze, a promise for his short return, and he ducked out of the med-bay. As the only other Spectre on board, the _Normandy_ was under his command, a realization that slammed into Garrus as the slow elevator brought him to the floor of the CIC. Technically, he had just completed his first mission as a Spectre and, while it certainly could have gone _a lot_ smoother, he had totake the results straight to the Councilor as promised. Though, he didn't relish the thought of letting Victus anywhere near Shepard in her state.

 _'A commodity.'_ He covered his disgusted growl with a deep, steadying breath as the elevator doors opened and he headed straight for the cockpit to inform their pilot of the rendezvous.

 

* * *

 

“We have a visitor.”

Shepard's whisper drew him from his light slumber. He sat hunched, yet comfortable in his chair beside her bed, head resting on her belly, a feat only made temporarily possible by the painkillers Dr. Chakwas had given her to relax her tightened, damaged muscles. Of course, she protested at first. Garrus suspected that she had been kept heavily drugged while she was held captive in that underground lair. It was only her trust in Karin that she relented. He could see the relief on her face the moment the drugs kicked in and she let out a breath he doubted she was even aware she was holding. In turn, that lulled him into a state of relaxation and as his fatigue caught up to him, he began to drift. He felt elated when she gently pulled his head down to her so that he could rest against her. The thought that she craved his closeness just as much as he craved hers left an annoying lump in his throat that wouldn't go away no matter how many times he swallowed.

She would never know just how much she meant to him.

Garrus slowly opened his eyes, a task made difficult by the hypnotic way she gently stroked his fringe. It was as if her fingers were brushing away the harsh realities that threatened to barge in on their happy little existence. She must have sensed this because, regrettably, her hand ceased its movements and Garrus was forced to confront the interruption- a little anyway. He turned his head just enough to regard their intruder and instantly remembered what his sleepiness had caused him to forget.

Victus.

Garrus' body reacted before he could think, a primal impulse to protect his mate against a threat. And that's what he was, wasn't he? Gone was the man Garrus knew, the friend he'd drink and commiserate with. He was a politician now and politicians reduced people to numbers. Hereduced Shepard as something to be used, but Victus was a new breed. He was a politician that seized power in the wake of unrest and desperation, ruthless enough to unravel the twine that held the fragile state of galactic peace together for his own gain and damn those who got hurt in the process. Though he was no longer the Chief Primarch, Garrus harbored no illusions that he didn't still hold the hearts and minds of those on the homeworld in one hand and, with the other, suppressed the other races under his thumb.

Over the course of a single year, Adrien Victus had, quite possibly, become the most powerful man in the Galaxy and Garrus would be damned if he was going to let his talons anywhere near Shepard.

He refused to allow her to be used and abused again.

However, he didn't wish to alarm Shepard in her current state so he suppressed his warning growl and shot the Councilor an icy look. The meaning would translate the same. Then his anger spiked when Victus' amber eyes returned his glare with nothing but complete indifference. It was as if there was nothing left of the man Garrus had come to call _friend_ within the walking entity of power and authority.

“Something wrong?” He heard Shepard ask, obviously noticing the chilly exchange between both turians.

Ever the one that's quick with his answers, Victus replied with a curt, “No.” Then, switching his tone to a gentler note, the Councilor asked, “May I speak with you privately, Commander?” That was exactly what Garrus didn't want happening, but Victus must have anticipated that because his sub-harmonics whispered a different meaning that was only for Garrus to hear. _“I promise to be brief,"_ they said, not unkindly. Still, they did little to actually assuage Garrus.

“Of course, Primarch... Councilor,” she corrected. “Sorry. That's going to take some getting used to.”

Victus smiled, a gesture Garrus didn't buy for an instant, and began to move towards her. “For me as well."

She laughed softly, not at all intimidated by the presence of the figuratively barefaced politician the way Garrus knew she should be, and she turned her attention back down to him. Sensing his anxiety, Shepard told him, “I'm not going anywhere, Big Guy. Give us ten minutes. I'm sure you can find something to calibrate in that time.”

He shot her an annoyed look. “You're not as funny as you think you are.”

“You know, the Alliance has had possession of the Normandy for some time now. _Imagine_ how badly they've messed up that Thanix cannon.”

 _'True,'_ he thought. _'But-'_

“Shepard, there are things you can joke about and things you just _can't_.”

“Who said I was joking?”

Garrus understood what she wanted. She didn't care about the state of the Thanix in that moment. Her body was damaged and injured, but she was still a soldier, a Spectre, and right now she was needed for a mission briefing. The woman looking down on him wasn't the sweet, delicate one that used to cuddle up to him, pressing her icy toes against his hide and then giggling when he would yelp and flinch away. This was the hardened Commander Shepard responding to duty. Still, the thought of leaving her alone with Victus didn't sit well with him. Garrus sat up to glance from her face to the side window toward the direction of the forward battery.

“Go on,” she urged. “Ten minutes.”

“Come now, Garrus.” Dr. Chakwas swept from her desk to lay a comforting hand on the back of his cowl. “She'll be fine.”

None of them knew Adrien the way Garrus did. What if Victus had some nefarious plan to kill her for the benefit of some ridiculous power-play that he'd convinced himself would work?

What if that was the real reason he wanted her retrieved?

The fact that Naash wasn't beside him did little to abate Garrus' anxiety. He knew Victus wasn't above getting his hands dirty.

Would he do that?

In the past, Garrus would have thought, _'No. Not a chance. He wouldn't betray an ally.'_

Now...?

Garrus met Shepard's stare for a moment, sizing up her resolve, but he knew her mind was made up. Defeated, he began to lift himself from his chair at the doctor's behest. Then, in a gesture he never would have done in front of Victus during the war, he leaned over Shepard's bed and caressed the top of her head with his mandible before dipping his brow to press against hers. Pride swelled in his chest as he felt Shepard return the gesture, a sign that their relationship was no longer one to be kept on the down low. It hadn't for a while, especially towards the end of the war, and certainly not after Garrus pulled her out on the dance floor in front of a crowd of people. Still, the acceptance felt good and it felt even better in front of the Turian Councilor, regardless of who held the title.

Before they pulled apart, their eyes met and, once again, a wordless promise was exchanged. As Garrus turned from the bed and moved to pass Victus, all the tenderness that he knew was present in his eyes hardened over as he gave the Councillor another chilly look.

“Councilor,” he greeted, without warmth.

“Spectre Vakarian.”

 

* * *

 

Garrus sequestered his stormy thoughts within the confines of the cargo bay. Compared to what it was during the war, the large space was empty. Lonely, even. The first thing he was forced to acknowledge was the noticeable absence of the near constant bickering between Jimmy Vega and Steve Cortez, replaced by the lone drone of the _Normandy's_ drivecore from above. He made a mental note to contact them both. Maybe they'd be interested in coming back to work under a Spectre, even if it was him and not Shepard. There were still hundreds ofboxes and crates _-of course-_ stacked high against the walls, a sight that hadn't changed, but the Alliance had removed the Kodiak as well as every other vehicle they had collected and stored. _'Of course they drive off with the vehicles and leave us the crap.'_

Garrus would remedy that on their return trip to Earth once this business with the _Councilor_ was done.

As he strolled along the wall of steel crates, he read the labels on the sides of them, mentally taking notes of what they would need to stock up on when they entered port again. A necessary task, he knew, but it also doubled as a distraction from the memories that haunted him in this space; a recollection of him screaming and struggling against Vega's grip the second the hatch sealed shut and the realization that Shepard wasn't coming had stabbed into his gut like a lance.

Garrus shook his head and began to read the crate labels out loud in an attempt to drown out the mental sounds of his own wailing.

"Couplings," he growled. "Brackets. Pistol mods. Sniper scopes-" He dragged that crate out and set it aside. "-Levo rations-" No Dextro though. He'd have to get that too. "-Mako parts-" _'Why?'_

Garrus stopped when he met the Normandy's hatch, having reached the end of the wall of crates, but his abrupt halt was not simply due to running out of space. His eyes fell on a crate that had been placed apart from the others, likely having just been placed there at the last minute before takeoff.More specifically, he stared at the name written on the crate: **Commander Shepard**.

Garrus cast a quick scan behind him, an action more out of habit than anything, before he began to open it. Once opened, Garrus couldn't help but smile at the sight that met him.

Shepard's beloved Widow, Morticia. Someone had disassembled her, and to Garrus' chagrin, not properly. His mandibles pinched against his face when he noticed there were pieces still attached that shouldn't be and her optic mount leaned hazardously against the wall of the crate with all the weight of the frame pressing on it. Rage ignited inside him when he saw all the dirt and soot that still covered the gun. Whoever disassembled her, or attempted to, hadn't bothered to clean her up first. Hero of the whole damn galaxy and they couldn't even take care of her fucking gun for her.

 _'Cara Mia,'_ he mentally lamented, using the nickname Shepard had lovingly bestowed on the rifle as he stooped to lift the pieces gingerly into his arms. He cradled the dismantled rifle to his chest in much the same way he had done for her mistress only hours ago.

Standing from his crouch with his arms full of gun metal, he carried his charge to the loading bench and laid it gently on the surface as if lowering a snoozing fledgling into the nest. After retrieving a several rags and some gun oil, he set to work. Morticia wasn't his, but he would treat her as such. He wiped down every piece of black metal until he could see his face reflecting back in dark, inky images of himself. It was only after each piece past an inspection so thorough it would have made his dad proud, did Garrus start to reassemble the gun. He inwardly celebrated every satisfying snap and click as Morticia came back together anew.

Just as he knew Shepard would.

Once finished, he collected Morticia and made his way to the elevator. He had given the Councilor longer than the promised ten minutes and he was eager to see the look on Shepard's face when she saw her beloved rifle again. The thought of her beaming smile was enough to chase away his discontent at having to see Victus again and as he rode the lift up, Garrus bounced from foot to foot with anticipation. When the doors opened, he rounded the corner and strode briskly to the med-bay doors.

“Look what I found in the cargo-" Garrus drew to a sudden halt. "Bay.”

He had no idea what had transpired between Shepard and the Councilor, but the atmosphere in the room was charged with a heavy tension. His eyes sought Shepard immediately and had managed to catch the look of shock she wore on her face before all traces of it were wiped clean. However, she was unable to hide the slightly weepy look in her eyes when she looked around Victus' shoulder and spotted him standing in the door. Her gaze found his first before they darted down to the burden in his arms.

“Morticia!” She exclaimed. “I've missed you so much!”

The temptation to ask about what he had walked in on was there, but he caught Shepard's lead. Her excitement over her gun was genuine, but he knew her well enough to recognize the cover that it was.

 _'Not now,'_ was what she really meant. _'We'll talk later.'_

Garrus stifled his curiosity and played along. “Shepard, I've only been gone a few minutes- oh. You mean the gun.”

Victus slipped past him without a word and exited the room. Good. The sooner he left, the better.

Garrus placed Morticia into her mistress' waiting arms. While Shepard's initial excitement was, in part, an act, it bubbled genuinely out of her the instant her hands closed around her faithful gun. He could almost see the end goals play across Shepard's eyes; to regain her ability to walk. Her ability to shoot.

Commander Shepard was living again.

"You just cleaned her, didn't you?" Garrus replied with a flare of his mandible and watched as she hefted the Widow, grunting from the effort, but determined to place her eye behind the scope. She tested her hold, her technique, like an athlete stretching old muscles. "You got the Vakarian treatment, huh girl? He's pretty good with his hands, I know."

Garrus grunted bashfully and looked away to quickly scan his surroundings for a hidden doctor that could have heard her lewd -though complimenting- comment. He saw no doctor, but as his gaze made its lap around the perimeter of the room, they inadvertently found the last thing Garrus expected to see. Victus, whom shockingly hadn't left yet, was standing just outside the med-bay window, watching them. At first, Garrus' body stiffened as he had when the Councilor first entered the room, but after only a second of watching him, he relaxed.

Gone was the ruthless stranger that started a race war for his own political gains. Gone was the man that looked him dead in the eye and called his bondmate a _commodity_. Garrus _knew_ the man that stood outside, recognized the warm expression on his face because it was the very same one that shared the death of his own bondmate with him after literally beating sense back into him. It was the same one that took him on a hunting trip to get Garrus' head on straight. The same one that placed a comforting hand on his shoulder when he mourned Shepard after shooting the first Reaperinto the sun.

In that instant, Garrus realized that even though he had Shepard back, he was still in mourning. Except now, it wasn't the loss of a bondmate he grieved for, it was the loss of a very good friend.

The walls of the med-bay were soundproof, so Garrus couldn't hear the older turian's subharmonics, but he could tell by the look in Adrien's eyes that they had to be humming a tune both elated and tragic. He watched Adrien watch Shepard, only guessing what was going through his mind. Then the amber eyes shifted from Shepard onto him and the array of emotions on Adrien's face were obliterated in the wake of the surprise that took over. He'd been caught with his walls down and he knew it. He expected the shock to leave just as quickly as the other emotions, so it was Garrus' turn to be taken aback when Adrien, instead of expectantly returning to a look of cold indifference, raised a hand in a subdued wave.

A goodbye and Garrus found himself reflexively returning it.

Then Adrien turned and nearly bolted away.

_'No.'_

"I'll be right back," he told Shepard and hurried for the corridor to stop Adrien before he could board the lift.

“Adrien, wait!” Garrus called as the med-bay doors shut behind him. Too late. He heard the elevator doors shut.

Garrus bolted for the fire escape hatch. When he reached the ladder, he grabbed the rungs and climbed quickly upwards, only to encounter the absurdly _locked_ hatch that covered the top.

_'No!'_

Adrien had been there for him when he needed him most. It was time to return the favor, but with every failed attempt to get the hatch opened, he felt his chance to do so slip away from him. Garrus dipped his head and shoved the back of his cowl hard against the hatch once, twice.

“Damn it! Who the fuck locked the _fire escape_ hatch?” Garrus bellowed angrily to no one in particular before slamming his back a third time, which resulted in the metal plate snapping up and slamming backwards against the floor with a violent _bang_.

"Adrien!" He called again, scrambling up from the hole in the floor. Garrus knew he had to have heard him, if not his voice than his subharmonics surely. Yet, at the lack of a response, it became clear to him that he was being ignored. Adrien wasn't just departing from the _Normandy_ , he was making an escape. Garrus' anger spiked.

He sprinted through the CIC, ignoring the confused looks he received from the staff around him, and reached the bridge just in time to see Joker cast a fearful look between Victus, Naash, and then Garrus. He was about to call out to Joker, to tell him to seal the airlock, but his order came too late. The pilot was obviously intimidated by his opposition so he did what any person short of Commander Shepard would do, he opened the door and let them through.

“Damn it, Adrien, get your ass back here! _Spirits_ , I'll hit you again!” Garrus shouted just before the doors sealed shut. He hurried to them, knowing Adrien had heard him and hoping the doors would reopen with his friend's return by the time he reached them, but they didn't. Garrus wanted to follow him through, but he stopped himself. Clearly, Shepard needed him more than Councilor Victus did or he would have stopped, would have heard him out. Still, the thought of losing yet another trusted friend stung him to his core and he turned a murderous look on Joker.

"What?" Joker bristled. "You didn't see the way he _looked_ at me! I damn near shit my pants. He could've killed me!"

Later, Garrus would look back and understand Joker's position, but in that moment, he felt like throttling him. Not wanting to say something he couldn't take back, Garrus wheeled around and stormed away. He crossed the CIC and entered the elevator, Omega weighing heavily on his mind.

Once again, Garrus would have to find peace knowing he'd failed yet another friend.

When the doors opened on the crew deck, Garrus rounded the corner and went straight for the med-bay. Shepard looked up at the sound of his return, her face tight with concern. He could tell by the wrinkled sheets that her hands had been worrying the fabric. Without a single word, he dragged his feet across the room and resettled into the chair beside her bed, the human seat squeaking its protest to his weight. He was unable to bottle the tired groan that escaped him and he didn't bother to wait for a second invitation before he returned his head to its previous resting spot upon her stomach. She allowed it, as he knew she would, and resumed the soothing, back and forth motion of her hand along the spines of his fringe.

Her presence was a balm for his anger at both himself and at Victus. He understood that there was nothing he could do for his former friend. He had made his choice, clarifying where their friendship stood. Adrien didn't need nor want him around anymore. Maybe he never did.

Shepard's blunt fingernails made a light scratching sound as they glided slowly along his fringe. Adrien might not need him anymore, but _she_ did. She needed him just as much as he needed her.

"Want to hear what he and I discussed?" She asked, somewhat hesitantly.

Garrus' eyes closed the instant he heard her voice and allowed himself to relax into her. His arm came up to reach across her lap and curl up along her side to lightly draw himself closer to her. He breathed deeply, basking in the scent of her that surrounded him and turned his head to nuzzle his nose against her soft stomach.

"No," he answered. "Not right now."

With his eyes still closed, he couldn't see the concerned look on her face, though he knew it was there. But the movements of her hand never ceased and he felt himself be pulled back into the sleepy abyss. Just before it claimed him with its warm embrace, he heard her whispered reply.

"Okay."

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to post the "adult" chapters separately. I figured that way people who aren't interested in reading that can skip it entirely and it also gives me an extra week, which I really need for how busy the holidays have got me. Expect nothing but smut in the next chapter. :)
> 
> So much love and a thousand thank you's to [shretl (Girlundone)](http://archiveofourown.org/users/girlundone/pseuds/shretl) for beta reading. :)

It would be weeks until Garrus heard from Victus again and when he did it was with little more than a short, curt message: **Build your crew and await further orders.** In that time, Shepard's progress had been minimal, much to her frustration. Karin had the reason for it just three days after they first reboarded the _Normandy_.

“I'm afraid the majority of your cybernetics are no longer functional, Commander,” she told Shepard. “Precisely seventy-six percent of them aren't reading at all, which means they aren't producing enough nanites to repair the damage done to your body.”

“That's the bad news. And the good is...” Shepard prompted, though Karin hadn't offered either choice of good or bad.

“I suppose the good news is that, at the very least, you're still healing slowly. Though, how you managed to fire a Widow in your condition, I have no idea.”

“I'd say it was a healthy cocktail of adrenaline and willpower,” Garrus offered, giving Shepard's knee an affectionate pat.

“The moving turian platform helped a little,” Shepard added, smirking at the joke, but Garrus wasn't fooled. The news had concerned her, evidenced by the way her fingers bunched the sheet over her lap.

“Be that as it may, Commander, I'm afraid you still have a long road to recovery ahead of you.” Shepard wilted and looked away from the doctor, catching Garrus' eyes briefly before settling on her hands. Karin crossed the room and laid a reassuring hand on Shepard's shoulder in a rare break from her efficient, professional persona. “And one that I'll be happy to join you on every step of the way, if you'll have me.”

Shepard smiled softly, eyes still fixed on her lap, but she brought a hand up to rest it over the doctor's. “Thank you, Karin.”

“It's my pleasure.” Karin gave Shepard's shoulder an encouraging squeeze before she released it and crossed the floor to her terminal. She settled on the stool and began to type, speaking without looking at them. “I've taken the liberty of contacting Ms. Lawson and requested her aid in repairing your cybernetics. She agreed, of course.” Karin looked away from her screen to Garrus. “You're to build a new team, isn't that right, Garrus?”

He nodded.

“Then I suggest you start with her. She's agreed to meet you at London Port.”

That was Step One to rebuilding the _Normandy_ crew.

Garrus spent a lot of his time beside Shepard's bed, reaching out to their old crewmates with her nearby to read their responses or chat with them over holo-comm. Most of those conversations were ripe with emotion at seeing the Commander alive. All of them involved a fair bit of ribbing on Garrus' behalf for him being out of contact for so long.

“Why wouldn't you talk to them after the war?” Shepard asked him later while they took their dinner together in the med-bay.

“I just... I don't know. I was busy, I guess.”

“Garrus,” she warned, calling his bullshit.

He answered with a deep, resigned sigh. “I don't know what you want me to say, Shepard. I...” He fixed his eyes on his plate, seeking the words he desperately needed in his unappetizing rations. “I was pretty messed up for a while. Talking to them just reminded me of...” He trailed off again, allowing the unsaid, _'you'_ to fill the air between them.

She didn't approve of his answer. He knew she wouldn't, but she accepted it anyway and passed it off in a joke. “Well,don't expect me to come to your rescue when you catch shit for it later, Vakarian.”

“Wouldn't dream of it, Shepard.”

Liara was the first to get in contact with them, having heard of Shepard's survival from the flurry of news stories that flew across the galaxy like a horde of locusts.

“Shepard,” the name left her blue lips in a hushed, disbelieving breath.

“Hey, Liara,” Shepard greeted her warmly, but kept an air of equanimity as she did when she expected a wave of emotion to hit her.

“I... I heard, but didn't believe.” Liara shook her head despairingly, eyes already wet with unshed tears. “I swear I looked for you and once I had reestablished my contacts, I had them looking too! I can't believe I never learned- Shepard, I'm so sorry!”

“Whoa there, Liara.” Shepard soothed. “It's not your fault.”

“She has been this way since she heard of your survival, Commander,” said the smooth, stoic tones of their old prothean companion in the background of Liara's side of communication. Apparently, the two of them had chosen to stick together once the _Normandy_ had returned to Earth. As Garrus thought on it, he couldn't think of anywhere else Javik would go. “Perhaps if the turian had not cut out all communication.”

Garrus made a show of looking down at his leg, knowing Shepard would see the gesture and reward him with a grin. He was, of course, checking to see if he had broken his leg from the proverbial bus Javik had just thrown him under.

Liara bristled at her - _Friend's? Colleague's? Lover's?_ \- condescending tone and quickly leapt to argue with the petulant living relic. Garrus found a small sense of relief in the example of how some things never change. “Oh stop it! We weren't in any place to open communications ourselves for a long time, and you know it.”

“Do I know it?” Javik asked, a lilting note to the question and though Garrus couldn't see him, he could absolutely picture the insufferable way he tilted his head when he was feeling especially supercilious. “I was not aware that I did with all the perplexed base-hopping you insisted on doing for the past year.”

Liara had completely turned away from Garrus and Shepard at this point to shoot her scathing retort at Javik. As she did so, Garrus didn't miss the way her eyes, now completely dried, had gone from weepy and listless to fired-up. Seeing that made him strongly suspect that Javik's less-than-friendly contribution to the conversation had been entirely intentional.

By the end of their holo-comm, Liara had offered her services and seemed all too eager to set up her base of operations aboard the _Normandy_ once again. Javik, to no one's surprise, agreed to reboard as well, though his eagerness was more reserved or... Maybe it was reluctance. Garrus couldn'tbe sure.

With Liara and Javik accounted for, Garrus continued to contact the rest of the old crew one by one. Unfortunately, and as both he and Shepard expected, not all of them were able to return as easily as Liara could. They had been busy over the past year and not all of them could simply drop their current duties to go gallivanting off with them again, as much as they all wanted to.

As a Spectre, Kaidanhad his own ship and crew to command now. Though, if Garrus was being honest -and he usually was, compulsively so- there was no love lost for him on that one. He still hadn't forgiven Kaidanfor ordering Joker to flee from Earth and then again for insisting on having that ridiculous memorial service in which Garrus refused to place Shepard's nameplate on the wall. He refused to see her plastered on with all the other casualties.

Garrus didn't care that the male human loved Shepard too, despite her thwarting his advances on the SR-1; a fact Garrus drew a considerable amount of pride from, childish as he knew it was.

Tali, however, was a bit more of a disappointment, though he understood her decision to decline. He believed her desire to rejoin was genuine, but with all the responsibilities placed upon her in Rannoch's recolonization and the quarian's continued cooperation with the geth, her position as Admiral was paramount.

“I can't wait to come see what you've done with the place,” Shepard told her, smiling fondly at the quarian's holographic appearance.

“It's wonderful, Shepard!” Tali exclaimed. “I- I have a house now. With solid ground under my feet and everything! I can't wait to _show_ you.”

Jack had deeply immersed herself into the Alliance's biotic training program as an instructor. Shepard didn't even attempt to hide the proud, almost motherly smile when they corresponded with her.

“Only you can die twice and still smile that fucking smile at me,” said Jack, shaking her head. “Ever the girl-scout.”

“Hey, this girl-scout is damned proud of you, Jack.”

“Aw shit, Shepard. You're gonna make me get all fucking teary-eyed over here.” Contrary to her words, Jack's voice didn't sound emotional, but the smirk on her face betrayed her true feelings; She was just as happy to see Shepard again as any of them were.

Garrus had been unable to reach Kasumi, but they did receive a short message from a Mrs. Smith seconds after they sent the message saying, **“Can't right now, but you might hear from me later. ;)”**

Jimmy, like Kaidan, had his own command as well, except he operated now as a newly declared N7 soldier. Of course, one of the members of his crew was Steve Cortez, which made them both regrettably unavailable to rejoin the _Normandy_.

Jacob had started a family with Brynn in one of Earth's busy cities and Samara had returned to her Justicar duty in asari space.

Grunt, however, couldn't have been happier to see Shepard again.

“SHEPAAARD!” Garrus winced at the young krogan's bellow and craned his neck away from his omni-tool in an effort to save his eardrums. He then leveled the woman in question with a flat look.

“I think he missed you.”

“Grunt,” Shepard nodded curtly at the the krogan's holo-visage, but her eyes were alight with mutual excitement at seeing her... _-little?-_ tank-bred krogan. “Staying out of trouble, I hope.”

Grunt grinned widely, his face was one only a mother could love. So of course Shepard did. “'Course not!” He replied in a tone that resonated all the confidence of a child that just delivered the correct answer in class.

“How's Aralakh Company?” Shepard shifted on the hospital bed, settling in for a long conversation,staring at Garrus' wrist. He made a mental note to purchase a new omni-tool for her once they'd returned to port again... and when he started getting paid again. Correspondence with the Council had been limited while they saw to the reconstruction of the Citadel and subsequently, Spectre missions were just as scarce.

“Fine,” Grunt growled, making Aralakh Company's status sound anything but. He then added, “Boring.”

Shepard smiled triumphantly at his answer. “Glad to hear it, because Garrus here is putting together a new crew for the Normandy and I hear there's a position open for a large, angry krogan such as yourself.”

Grunt blinked. “ _Garrus_ is?”

“I'm afraid so,” Garrus chimed in.

“The Normandy is Garrus' until I'm back on my feet, so yes.”

“And maybe some time after,” Garrus quipped, which earned him a playful glare from the little human.

“A topic for another day.” The bite of her glower was numbed by her coy smile. Turning her attention back to Grunt, she said. “You'd be working under him.”

“Now, I realize I'm no Battle Master, but I do offer casual Fridays as well as an endless supply of mercs that need shooting- or headbutting, or whatever method you prefer to dispatch them with. I don't know what you kids are calling it these days.”

Grunt ignored him, his eyes fixed solely on Shepard. “But you'll be joining us later?”

“As soon as I'm able.” She nodded. “And you know, I could use a krogan to kick me back into shape.”

Grunt tipped his head back and guffawed loudly at the praise. “You got it, Shepard. I won't go easy on you either just because you're crippled.” Garrus sensed a very krogan compliment in that back-handed insult. Apparently, Shepard did too, judging by the wide grin that lit up her face.

“Wouldn't have it any other way, Grunt.”

Zaeed, on the other hand, required some convincing. When Garrus tried to call him, he was ignored, so he resorted to tracking the old merc down to a private residence on Earth when they next docked the _Normandy._ He had chosen to retire to the deserts of a place calledNew Mexico and when Garrus arrived he found him sunbathing on the roof of his home. Naked- A sight Garrus feared would never be scrubbed from his retinas no matter how much alcohol he would later consume.

“It's good to see you in one piece, Garrus!” The old merc hollered down from the edge of his squared rooftop, his exposed genitalia wiggling absurdly in the wind. Garrus was sure Zaeed had to be breaking a plethora of indecent exposure laws, but maybe that's why he chose to live in the middle nowhere. “Now leave! I'm retired!”

“It's good to see you too, Zaeed!” Garrus called back from the ground. “Why don't you put some clothes on and we'll have a chat.”

Zaeed could have used the solar mirror he held in-hand to cover himself, but instead the old merc chose to discard it completely, abandoning it on his lounge chair. He then returned his attention to Garrus, arms crossed over his chest and said, “Seems to me my chin waggles-” _Spirits, why did he have to use that word?_ “-just fine without the use of clothes. If you came all this way to talk, quick gawking at me, _boy_ , and bloody talk! Quit wasting my goddamn time!”

“Fine!” Garrus relented, elevating his voice so that the human could hear him from the ground. “I'm sure you heard that Shepard's been found!”

“Might've heard that song.”

“Well, I have good news for you, Zaeed. I've been made a Spectre-”

“How is that good news for me?”

Garrus allowed himself a low growl to vent his frustration, knowing the human wouldn't hear it. “If you'd let me finish! I'm a Spectre now and Shepard and I need to rebuild the crew for the upcoming missions. I thought to myself, _'what better crew could I ask for than the one I had before?'_ ” Somehow, Zaeed in all his nude glory added absurdity to Garrus' statement. He ignored it and pushed on. “How would you like to come back to the Normandy,Zaeed?”

“No,” his answer was quick and without hesitation.

“Please?”

“Oh, I do like it when they beg. No.”

Garrus shifted his weight to his other leg and endeavored to look past the flaccid dick that stared down a him. “I thought you'd need some sweet-talking.”

“Sweet-talk me all you want, turian. I'm retired.” Zaeed turned away from the edge of the roof, presumably to lay back down on his lounge chair, but he froze at the next words to leave Garrus' mouth.

“We have a lead on a guy you might know. Goes by the name, Vido Santiago.”

Zaeed slowly turned around to stare at Garrus with his one, functioning eye. The familiar rage Garrus knew all too well had ignited in full. Of course Zaeed thought his nemesis to be dead. He wouldn't be lying naked on a rooftop otherwise.

“That's impossible,” he argued with a slow shake of his head. “I watched that son-of-a-bitch get carried off by a harvester, myself!”

“Well, he got away and we know that thanks to our local information broker. You met her at that party on the Citadel- Liara.”

“The Shadowbroker.”

Garrus winced at how easily Zaeed threw the title out and habitually scanned his surroundings for any souls within earshot. Thankfully, no one was around for miles.

“Yes. He's been awfully busy rounding up what's left of the Blue Suns in the Attican Traverse. I'm fairly certain the Council will take issue with that and they usually send their Spectres to take care of matters they have issues on. That's where I would come in and, by proxy, you. But if you're not interested...” Garrus turned and began walking back to his skycar, mentally counting down the seconds, starting at five.

_'Three. Two.'_

“I never work for free!” Garrus' feet instantly stopped. He took a second to quickly school the smile off his face, knowing Zaeed was a human that could read turian facial expressions with ease, before rotating on the spot to face him again.

“Welcome aboard, Zaeed.”  


 

* * *

 

With a Council seat officially opened to every other race, bar vorcha, the term _Council Space_ had become muddied, the lines between Terminus and Council Space blurred. With voices of their own, races like batarians and krogan had become less likely to throw their strength behind the gangs and call the Terminus home. Of course, the gangs still existed, but their numbers were a far cry from what they had before the war. In some ways, it made the existing gangs more dangerous and unpredictable, like a wounded animal lashing out in its final death throes.

The matter was complicated further by the Attican Traverse,as it was ripe with colonies claimed by both the gangs and Council species alike, particularly the humans. The Reapers, however, turned that upside down as they didn't discriminate which colonies they utterly decimated. This left a lot of previously claimed worlds, more or less, up for grabs again and the Council was eager to take the opportunity to increase their influence and power over the Galaxy. An additional factor to press in on the Terminus' borders, as it were, was the homeworld Rannoch, located _in_ the infamous system. Now that it was home to an official Council race, it shrankthe opposing borders even more.

Predictably, the gangs and slavers that managed to survive the Reapers came crawling out of the woodwork and weren't happy to find that their previously held colonies were stripped from them. Before, the Alliance was left to deal with their less-than-friendly neighbors alone, but such wasn't the case today. Either the reformed Council had become more charitable or, and this was what Garrus suspected was the most likely reason, Victus was determined to keep Palaven's new neighbors appeased.

In either case, strife was in no short supply, which meant that once the Council had reestablished itself, the work began to flow in. Nothing the likes of whichGarrus faced before ashe wasn't fighting Reaper forces anymore, but it was still work he felt good doing. The Terminus Systems would always be the tempestuous hellhole it had always been and in the Galaxy's weakened state, the scum that called it home rose to take advantage any way they could.

Hitting the field with his old comrades again felt good. Sinfully good. The only thing that would have made it better was if Shepard was able to join them too. That... had become a source of conflict for them. Nothing they would argue about, of course. Shepard had improved with Miranda's expertise on her cybernetics, but she still couldn't walk on her own longer than a minute or so without her legs giving out under her own weight. She was well aware of her limitations, but therein laid the problem.

Shepard was growing evermorerestless in her eagerness to join him on the field. Her frustration was boiling to the surface faster and faster,it seemed, with every mission he went on without her. Miranda and Karin did their best to talk her down and were usually successful, but there were days when his expertise was required.  


 

* * *

 

“Garrus, when you're finished up down there, would you mind coming up to the med-bay?” Garrus had been crouched at the Mako's tires, securing it to the floor, when he heard Miranda's voice come in over his earpiece.

“Shepard?” He activated the code for the lock and watched as it snapped down on the vehicle's tires.

“I'm afraid so.”

Garrus climbed to his feet and cast a longing look at the gun table. His precious Widow had worked hard and deserved a good cleaning, but Shepard would always be his first priority.

“I'll be right up.”

When he entered the med-bay, he walked in on a scene he'd witnessed several times before. Shepard was on her feet, gripping the hand railing that lined the track she was meant to walk. She'd yet to reach the end, always becoming too tired half-way through. Today, she had made it just past that elusive half-way mark and, judging by her sweat-soaked tank top and wet hair, it had taken a great deal of effort to reach it.

“Commander.” Dr. Chakwas' voice was calm, but her tone held a commanding note that she'd undoubtedly honed from years of dealing with Shepard's stubbornness. “You've already reached your goal for the day. It's all right to stop now.”

Shepard only grunted for a reply. Her teeth were bared and clenched too tightly for words.

“Shepard, please,” Miranda pleaded. “If you don't stop, you're only going to do more damage to yourself.”

Shepard grunted again, wincing as she dragged her toe another centimeter forward. Her knuckles were white from the tight grip she held on the railings, but her hands looked unstable, wet and slippery from the sweat that ran down her scarred and freckled arms. Then her eyes found Garrus'. She held his gaze for several heartbeats before looking away to focus on the wall ahead of her. She then redoubled her efforts, forcing her other toe another hard-fought centimeter forward.

“Commander, Miranda's right. There's no reason to overdo it,” said Dr. Chakwas.

She was in a lot of pain and was long past the point of trying to hide it, but as much as Garrus hated to see it, he didn't feel right trying to stop her. He understood what she was trying to do. She was trying to rush her recovery, for what little good it would do her. She knew this and didn't need Garrus in her ear telling her no, holding her back. And he refused to do so. He knew her well enough to know not to tell her she couldn't do something, but he was damn sure to be at her side for both her triumphs and failures alike. If the roles were reversed, he knew she'd do the same.

Today, he braced himself for the latter.

Garrus approached her, keeping his hands to himself and saying nothing. He watched her, taking no pleasure in her pain, but hoping she could draw some measure of comfort from his presence. She managed about two more centimeters before her legs finally gave out and Garrus rushed to catch her. It was a dance they'd done several times already and Dr. Chakwas and Miranda knew their parts in it as well. They left the room to give him and Shepard some privacy while she wept her frustrations against the cold, dirty shoulder of his hardsuit.

His heart broke when she sobbed and he reached for her hand to press it against his throat so his bondmate could feel the comforting hum of his second larynx. She held it there for a few seconds, but ultimately left the spot in favor of gripping the front of his cowl instead.

“You beat that dreaded half-way mark, Shepard,” he observed, settling both her and himself into a more comfortable position on the floor. “That's good!”

“Fuck,” she hissed disparagingly against his shoulder.

Her curse echoed in his head as he realized he'd said the wrong thing.

“It doesn't... It doesn't feel good.”

“I know,” he soothed, not knowing what else to say.

“I feel trapped.”

“Trapped in here? You can leave whenever you want, Shepard. You know that.”

Shepard shook her head.

“Not without help. Not without a wheelchair. Some savior of the Galaxy. I can't even take a piss on my own, Garrus!” Another sob ripped from her and she refused to meet his gaze. “I feel trapped in my own damn body. I'm stuck here when all I want is to be out there with you again. I... I want to make sure you come back because if you don't-”

“Hey.” Garrus quickly cut that train of words off, squeezing her a little tighter to him. “I'm not going anywhere, Shepard. I've told you already, I'm hard to kill.”

“Garrus, stop.”

“You don't need me to tell you that you can't rush this. You've already improved so much. It's slow, yes, but it's not any less significant.” Her shakiness began to abate and he heard her draw slow, deliberate breaths. “Do I wish you were out there with me? _Spirits_ , I do. But you being here still brings me back, Shepard. I'm careful- ask Zaeed. It irritates the crap out of him. I don't take any unnecessary risks because at the end of the mission, I want to come back to you.”

“That's not enough,” she argued feebly.

“I know, but it has to be. I need you to focus on healing.” He reached up to run his talons lightly along her scalp through her damp hair, feeling her shiver as he did so. “That's an order.”

Shepard huffed a small laugh, a slight improvement to her mood that Garrus was happy to make into a victory. “You're given command of the Normandy for only a few weeks and you're already giving me orders now, huh?”

Garrus _hmm'd_ , knowing she felt the vibrations against her body and silently rejoiced when he heard her chuckle softly. “Now, Shepard we both know I've been giving you orders longer than that.”

At last, Shepard pulled her face from his armored shoulder and fixed him with a sideways glance. The corner of her mouth tugged ever so slightly. “Not sure if that was a sex joke or...”

Garrus canted his head a little to the side, smiling faintly for the joy of the memory of learning she'd survived. “Partly, yes, but don't you remember? You said so yourself to that Black Watch Agent. I believe your exact words were, and I quote, _I followed your order, Big Guy._ ” He paused to press his mouth against her forehead in his best approximation of a kiss. _“_ And I'm glad for it.”

Shepard rolled her eyes, but her smile remained. And, if he wasn't mistaken, he was fairly sure her eyes had moistened again for a completely different reason. Perhaps his romantic skills, or lack thereof,were _finally_ becoming something he could take a small bit of pride in.

“All right, all right,” she conceded. “You got me there.”

“Or maybe it was, _I followed your order, Garrus, Love of My Life, Key To My Heart and… To All Parts Below.”_ He flicked a mandible and gave her the most suggestive look he could muster. His endeavor was rewarded with the first loud, genuine laugh he'd heard from her in days.

“Okay. Now you're pushing it, Big Guy.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I really like the idea of spreading the Mass Effect love by recommending fics so I'm going to do it again. 
> 
> This week I'm recommending [Disconnect](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11957505/chapters/27037428) by [Soignee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soignee/pseuds/SE_Soignee). Regardless if you're a fan of Kolyat- if you like well-written Mass Effect stories and murder mysteries, lovingly wrapped up in a fantastic, airtight plot I _guarantee_ you'll enjoy this.
> 
> Also turians. Lots and lots of turians. <3
> 
> I wish all of you the happiest of holidays and a (hopefully) wonderful New Year. I've officially been a part of this community for a little over a year now and I've loved every bit of it. Thank you for all the love!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by the ever wonderful, [shretl (Girlundone)](http://archiveofourown.org/users/girlundone/pseuds/shretl)
> 
>  **Note:** There might be a delay for the next chapter due to the goddamn holidays. But I'm working to get it out as soon as I can. Thank you again for reading and I hope you all have a safe and wonderful New Years!
> 
>  **Content Warning:** This chapter contains fairly explicit sexual content. If that bothers you, I separated the NSFW stuff from the end of the chapter so just scroll to the bottom for the ending.

Over the course of another two weeks, Shepard's health had improved to the point that Karin agreed to release her from the med-bay. ThoughGarrus suspected that the Commander's growing restlessness likely had some sway in the decision. He wouldn't complain though. Waking up next to Shepard's warm body was a luxury he was happy to indulge in again.

Unfortunately, it wasn't always positive. Sharing quarters with her again required more of his attention to her needs. While she had grown stronger, she still didn't have full use of her legs, so she needed assistance going up the steps in her- _their_ \- cabin or using the restroom. That had led to another moment of contention, in which she adamantly refused his help until after she fell when she tried to tackle the first step on her own.

Garrus was quick to help her up, before she could shoo him away, and aided her to hobble to the bathroom. Her mouth was set in a grim line and she refused to speak or meet his eyes until her shorts were off and he lowered her onto the toilet. Then the lines of her body wilted, her eyes scrunched, and the tears came.

“This was a stupid idea," she sobbed, pressing her face hard into the palms of her hands. She looked as small as she likely felt. "Look at me. I should've stayed in the med-bay. This isn't fair to you, Garrus!”

Like several other times in the past, he was tempted to tell her how he really felt. He wanted to express that taking care of her was no chore because he was bonded to her. He would never want anyone else. He belonged to her. His second larynx vibrated in his throat, expressing as much but itfell on deaf ears. She looked at him and he opened his mouth to finally tell her in a way she could actually understand, but all that came out was: “You'd do the same for me."

She stared at him, eyes glassy with the moisture of her tears. Then her mouth opened, about to say something, but she must have changed her mind because she closed it and simply nodded her affirmation.

As days went on and they adapted, as they always did, Shepard more readily accepted his help while he was learning to recognize that fine line of when to offer and when to sit back and let her work through it on her own. Yet, while that aspect of their new situation improved, another was on a quick decline.

Turians typically slept in the nude, unless they happened to be stationed in a relatively cold area. Shepard, on the other hand, preferred to sleep with clothes, a habit she had developed in basic because she always wanted to be prepared to spring awake and start fighting if she had to.

“Never want to get caught with your pants down, Vakarian,” she had told him once, smirking over her shoulder at his questioning look as she pulled a pair of sweats on.

At least, that was the case before he had asked her to be a one-turian-woman. Then, instead of immediately cleaning up and putting on some shorts and a t-shirt after sex, Shepard took to pressing up against him. For reasons beyond him, not that he minded, she _wanted_ to feel his hide and plates against her soft skin. Under normal circumstances, Garrus would have rejoiced at the feeling, but now he found himself cursing it.

The problem wasn't that he didn't want her. The problem was that he did. His body screamed for the mate to who he had bonded to. Every innocent trace of a fingertip left a trail of fire in its wake. Every sleepy hum that sounded even remotely like a moan left him growling. The feel of her warm body triggered every primal instinct inside him to roll over and take her, but she was in no condition to take him the way the beast inside demanded. She was in enough pain and didn't need him adding to it just because he was horny. And he certainly didn't want her to feel pressured.

Garrus groaned at the building pressure beneath his pelvic plates, knowing it was an issue he had to ignore until Shepard fell asleep. Then he could slip quietly from the bed and take care of it in the bathroom without risk of initiating a very awkward conversation.

The only light in the cabin was from the blue glow of the fish tank. Much to Shepard's disappointment, her fish were one of the first things to go when the Alliance had seized the _Normandy_. It was a fact that pissed him off too. He had worked hard to keep those damn things alive when they were stranded in that jungle. And, unfortunately, not many people were overly concerned with restocking their fish tanks when they had houses to rebuild, so there weren't many stores from which to buy fish.

At least Joker had the forethought to claim Shepard's hamster. That was made abundantly clear when Garrus would wake to the sound of the furball running on his obnoxious wheel late into the night... every night.

“He's nocturnal.” Shepard would defend the sleep-murdering rodent. “He can't help it.”

Garrus stared at a long piece of kelp, watching it bend and sway in the artificial current. He did so in an effort to take his mind off the naked body beside him. The planttwisted and curved like Shepard did when he would-

 _'Spirits!'_ Had it really been so long for him that he was beginning to find eroticism in a _plant?_

The starring role of his prurient thoughts shifted beside him. Apparently sleep remained elusive to Shepard too. He knew, without looking, that her eyes were on him now.

“Garrus?”

“Yeah?” The dancing plant bent and curled.

“I wasn't able to take a shower today,” she sheepishly admitted.

 _'Damn it.'_ He mentally cursed. He'd been so busy earlier, coordinating a strike team with the Krogan Councilor for an alleged drug bust in the Attican Clusterthat he'd forgotten to ask. On days when he was too tied up with work, Lawson or Liara would often take over for him.

“You don't want to wait until morning?” He asked, feigning sleepiness.

“I sweated a lot in physical therapy today so I kind of smell-"

“Amazing,” he tacked on, brushing his nose against her scalp to breath in the scent of her. The throb behind his plates punished him instantly.

She chuckled and gave his keel a playful smack. “I'm serious. I stink. Please?”

And how could he say no to that?

“All right,” he adhered. Knowing gravity would work against him once he stood, Garrus took a moment to school his pelvic plates closed before he sat up, bringing Shepard up with him. He then planted his feet on the floor and offered her his arm, allowing her to brace on it while she found her footing.

Carefully, and with very small steps, they slowly crossed the room, made it up the stairs, and moved into the bathroom.

The day Shepard moved out of the med-bay, Garrus had placed a plastic chair over the shower drain for her convenience. With his arm around her waist, supporting her weight, he reached out with his free hand to turn the shower on. Turians prefer showers at a higher temperature than human skin can withstand so, once steam began rising from the plastic, he maneuvered Shepard so that she could reach a tentative hand towards the spray to conduct an accurate, human-friendly temperature test. At her approval, Garrus eased her down onto the seat.

He stepped around the spray, trying not to get wet, as he retrieved her soap and shampoo from the built-in shelf and set them on the floor at her feet where she could reach them. He was about to make his retreat, leaving the door open in case she needed him, when she asked: “Will you stay?”

She looked up at him, eyes wide and innocent, giving nothing away. Garrus wasn't fooled.

He shifted his weight back, fixing her with a suspicious gaze. “I'm beginning to see the makings of a setup,” he told her.

“Maybe a small one,” she admitted, glancing up at him through her eyelashes, a sheepish smile on her face. “I really do need a shower though and... I wouldn't mind if you... you know... helped?”

It was dangerous ground he was about to traverse on. He had surprised himself with the amount of willpower he demonstrated in order to stay behind his plates when he was just lying bedside her in bed, staring at kelp. To have her warm and naked in the shower, water running down her body...

He just managed to suppress a wanting groan.

His silence must have falsely translated as reluctance. "It's all right if you don't want to," she quickly added, doing an admirable job at hiding the disappointment from her voice. "I don't want you to feel pressured."

She didn't want to pressure _him?_

"I want to!" He blurted. Against his better judgment, he really did.

He tried not to wince when he saw how relieved she was that he hadn't turned her away, her small face lighting up.Stepping into the shower, the less-than-ideal water temperature served as a nice distraction to the guilt he felt for making Shepard think, for even a minute, that he didn't want to be in there with her. As he did so, water ran down his neck to pool slightly in his cowl, which gave Garrus an idea of how to move past the awkward start to this encounter while at the same time, tugging at an old thread of their relationship. He gave himself several seconds to stand under the water, collecting as much as he could before he used the shampoo on the floor as an excuse to bend over. Shepard's eyes widened, rather comically, as she recognized the old game.

“Vakarian, don't you dare-!” But her threat went ignored as he allowed the water to pour out onto Shepard's upturned face all at once.

“You ass!” She exclaimed, but her ensuing laughter drained the word of any venom it could have packed.

Though he had an ulterior motive for bending over, he did follow the motion through by plucking a bottle from the floor; dual shampoo and conditioner. It was Shepard's preference for the sake of efficiency. Remembering the lesson she'd taught him long ago in showers past, - _'a little go_ _es a long way'_ \- he squeezed a small amount into his palm and moved behind her chair to begin massaging it into Shepard's hair. As he gently scrubbed her scalp, watching the soap foam around his fingers and through her red tresses, he found the seemingly mundane task oddly... affecting. Strange, considering it was a deed he had done many times before, but maybe that was the cause.

When he was back on Palaven, he didn't have to keep his talons dulled. That, he would quickly learn, proved to be one of the biggest adjustments to suddenly living life without a human partner. He had kept them filed for only one, soft, reason and that reason had gone from his world. As the months went by, the gradual lengthening and sharpening of his talons sufficed as a biological timescale for how long he'd gone without his reason to blunt them. Now, in that moment, as Shepard groaned and leaned her head pliantly into his palms, relishing the feel of his now-dulled talons scraping along her scalp, Garrus smiled for having a reason again.

“That feels really good,” she sighed.

The water made short work of the lather on Shepard's head and he used the runoff as soap for the rest of her body. His hands glided down the soapy skin of her neck, sliding over the ball of her shoulders and traveled down her arms. For good measure, he dragged his talons lightly over the length of her arms on the way back up, remembering how much she used to enjoy the feeling and how much he enjoyed watching her skin react. Goosebumps, he reminded himself. As his hands rounded over the tops of her shoulders and started their destination down and over her collarbone, Shepard moaned softly. It was a small sound, barely audible over the echoing water, but his pelvic plates reacted immediately all the same, shifting slightly and his hands froze in place.

This was bad. He didn't want to initiate something if she wasn't ready. He remembered the pain on her face back in the shuttle to London. Mentally scrambling for a solution, it occurred to him that he hadn't washed her back yet. He could retreat there for now, a place free of human erogenous zones and regroup to her front from a different angle-

“Garrus.” His name left her lips in a needy whisper and his hands halted in their retreat. He was staring down at the top of her head, willing his traitorous plates to remain closed, but he knew that tone. It was a tone that he frequently heard both in person and in his dreams ever since the first night they shared together. It was welcome, familiar, and his body responded to it in the way it always did. Then she tilted her head up, and he found himself trapped in her gaze. Her short, copper hair spilled down her neck in a wet, seemingly single piece, but there were strands that curled around her cheeks and eyes, glued to her speckled skin. Her lips moved, uttering a single word that was almost deafened by the sound of the water spattering on the tiles, yet it was loud enough to topple him. “Please.”

And he was lost.

His plates shifted, no longer within his control, exposing the seam of his sheath. He found himself incapable of stopping the loud groan that left him when he everted in a rush, his length brushing against her shoulder as it emerged. Muscle memory or, perhaps just instinct, kicked in and his hands quickly glided back to where he knew she wanted them to be. Her eyes slid closed and he felt the familiar feeling of her nipples pebbling at his touch. It was a sensation he was surprisingly fond of, considering turian anatomy had nothing even resembling breasts, and even more surprised at how much he missed them.

Garrus sank to his knees so he could access Shepard's neck and throat with ease. He pressed his mouth against the junction of her neck and shoulder, lightly scraping his teeth against her flesh while his hands continued kneading her soft breasts. Dragging his closed mouth up the length of her neck, he allowed his tongue to skim along the edge of her jaw, catching her lips when she turned her head to kiss him. He could feel her body trembling in the chair, encouraging his own. When she parted her lips to moan his name again, he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. His tongue found hers and he massaged it gently, seizing the chance to withdraw his right hand from her breast to travel down her stomach, leaving his left hand to feel the way her heart pounded inside her chest.

His name left her in rapid, shallow breaths as his talons crept ever downwards until they came to rest on her upper thigh, his finger just brushing the outside of her heat while his comparatively long thumb stretched across her navel. Feeling her thigh shake beneath his hand, he pulled his mouth just far enough away from hers to ask, “Did you miss me, Shepard?”

Her eyes had been closed, but they slid open at his sudden lack of movement and she looked at him almost drunkenly. The sight stirred a rush of male pride inside his chest. She decided to respond to his question by wrapping her fingers around his wrist and guiding his hand to the moistness between her legs, allowing her body to answer for her. As his finger slid down into her folds, he felt her wet hair press against his shoulder as she tipped her head back.

"Please, Garrus!"

Reducing the savior of the galaxy into pliant, whimpering mess was a heady sight. He allowed himself to indulge in the moment and just watch as she squirmed in her chair, emitting sounds that Garrus knew would rule his dreams for months to come. Desperate for the contact she was lacking from him, she brought a hand to the breast Garrus had abandoned, massaging it while her other hand...

Practiced fingers slid up the back of his neck, zeroing in on the spot Shepard knew would break him. Garrus was powerless to stop the moan that left him when she started to rub tiny circles on the soft patch of hide beneath his fringe. Her arm had curled around his head, simultaneously pulling his maw down to her shoulder. He responded by nipping her affectionately and curled the finger nestled motionlessly against her entrance, smoothly pushing it inside her while his thumb came to rest on that oh-so sensitive spot he had quickly learned to appreciate. The angle allowed his bent finger to easily find and hit the spot inside that Shepard loved him to touch with each passing stoke. Simultaneously, he began to work his thumb in small circles against her.

When she cried out, the sound was like music to him and it caused his body to involuntarily thrust his hips forward against nothing, desperate to be inside her, to hear that sound again. After so long of being denied it, he was _determined_ to hear it again.

“G-Garrus,” she whimpered against his ear canal.

Garrus turned his head to run his tongue along her parted lips, reveling in the rapid little breaths he felt, his name ghosting over his face. It was hard to focus with her ministrations under his fringe, so he sped up his own, fucking her with his hand. His plan worked, evidenced by her hand falling away in favor of gripping the edge of the plastic seat.

“Should I stop?” He purred, knowing the answer.

“ _Nnn_ ,” was the only reply he received.

“Yes?” He prompted, enjoying the sight of her copper eyebrows pinching in frustration. His hand never stopped.

She resorted to simply shaking her head, the inside of her lip pinched between her teeth. Spirits, he had missed this.

“I'm going to- Garrus...I-”

“That's it, Shepard,” he murmured into her ear, gently nibbling the lower half of it.

The feel of her heartbeat counted the seconds down. It was on the sixth beat that she shattered, mouth open in a silent scream and he hurried to wrap his left arm around her waist to keep her safely anchored to the chair. He kept his finger inside her, continuing to thrust it in and out, allowing her to ride the palm of his hand.

After weeks of watching Shepard move stiffly, her muscles still plagued by pain, this was a breath of fresh air- steamy as it was. It made Garrus' heart soar to watch her move almost freely now. Her body, awash in a natural cocktail of endorphins, convulsed and jolted as if reacting to electricity. Her hands had left the edge of the seat to claw at every inch of him she could reach, quietly chanting his name like a prayer.

The vision she assembled made his cock throb again with want, aching for attention, but he endeavored to ignore it in favor of the sight before him.

It was several seconds before the rippling shockwaves began to subside and, after one last roll of her hips against his soaked hand, Shepard deflated limply on the seat. Her arms hung motionless at her sides with her fingers brushing the tiles. The only part of her that moved at all was the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she panted heavily. Turning his head, he could see the way her eyes had glassed over, staring at the top of the shower with her head resting on his shoulder. The water, now beginning to cool, darkened her red hair and plastered it against her face and neck. She lounged against him, over-sexed and drunk on pleasure and damned if it wasn't the most erotic thing Garrus had ever seen. A part of him wished he had his visor to capture the moment so he could return to it later. Though, he doubted he would forget it any time soon.

Garrus raised his upper body just high enough to dip his head and bump his brow against her own, closing his eyes and feeling her breath puff against his nose. He was happy to offer this reprieve from her constant discomfort and he was tempted to do it again. From past experience with Shepard, he could gauge when enough time had passed that she was still sensitive, but not overly so that it would be painful for her if he attempted to make her come again. His right hand had returned to its previous perch, resting lazily on her thigh and as he moved to slide it between her legs again-

The feeling of too many fingers suddenly wrapping around his length dragged an embarrassingly sharp gasp from him. His eyes flew open to meet Shepard's now focused stare. With his brow still pressed against hers, Garrus opened his mouth to say... _something,_ but it was instantly wiped from his brain when she gave his cock a languid stroke.

He tried again. “Sh-Shepard, I-”

Another stroke and he had just enough sense of mind to notice the way her eyes crinkled in the corners as she smiled impishly at him.

“I'm okay,” he managed, willing his hips to refrain from rutting into her hand.

“A little one-sided, don't you think?”

Shepard decided to increase the difficulty for him to form a half-intelligent answer by beginning a slow pace, her hand sliding up and down his shaft. He wondered if her ears were sharp enough to hear the filthy noise her hand made, sliding through his natural lubricant, over the sound of the water.

“I- _Spirits_.”

The breath of her resulting chuckle tickled his nose.

“Yes, Garrus?” She teased.

Reluctantly, Garrus reached down to gently seize her wrist, as she had done to him, stopping her motion so he could think enough to articulate an actual sentence.

“I don't want to hurt you,” he confessed and hated the way her smile wilted.

“You're not hurting me, Garrus,” she told him, reaching up with her other hand to gently stroke his mandible. “Let me take care of you.”

A pregnant silence fell between them as their shuttle ride replayed in Garrus' head for the umpteenth time. The embarrassment he had felt returned with a vengeance and he couldn't help breaking their eye contact, ashamed of himself. Then he felt pressure from Shepard's fingers on his mandible. Her grip was compromised by the water on his face, but her meaning was clear; _look at me._ He did. And he was met with resolute eyes that reflected a question, awaiting his consent. Once again, he caved, answering her silent question by lightly brushing his nose against hers. He then released her wrist and groaned loudly as her hand resumed its task. This time, Garrus didn't suppress his reactions. He was lost to her, a fact made clear to both of them when he allowed himself to begin thrusting unapologetically into her hand.

“There we go,” she praised, tilting her chin to run her tongue along his scarred mandible, which elicited a dirty pitch from his sub-harmonics. Her soft lips then brushed the side of his mouth, her hand continuing to pump between his legs, sending shocks of pleasure throughout his whole body. He couldn't think, and when he opened his mouth to attempt to speak, all that came out was a long, helpless moan, which Shepard was quick to swallow, slamming her mouth against his. She must have felt the sound continue to vibrate from his chest and throat because he felt her lips smile against his mouth. Then he felt her lips move again, but it would be several seconds – as well as the abrupt halt of the motions of her hand- later that Garrus would realize that she had asked him a question.

He opened his eyes, not sure when he had closed them, and was met with a coy, expectant smile.

“What?” He rasped, very much aware of how vapid he sounded.

“I asked if you could stand up.”

“Oh,” was his intelligent response. Shepard picked that moment to drag her hand up and down his cock, only once, but it was enough to crumble what little composure he'd managed to muster. He pressed his mouth against her neck, using her flesh to muffle his whimpers. “That's a surprisingly tall order.”

Shepard huffed a laughed. “That a height joke, Vakarian?”

"Wouldn't dream of- _ahh..._  it."

She released her hold on his dick and gave his hip a playful pat. “Come on, Big Guy. Up.”

“We're going to run out of hot water soon,” he observed, purposefully glancing past her to the shower head.

“Then you better hurry up and finish,” she countered, waggling those oh-so expressive human brows suggestively.

“Fine, but you owe me.”

“I... owe... you,” she echoed dubiously, glancing at him sideways as he climbed shakily to his feet. She kept her eyes trained on his, ignoring the blue cock that now swayed in front of her face. “And how _ever_ will I repay you?”

Garrus canted his head to the side, trying for nonchalance, but he felt his composure rapidly slipping into the depths of Shepard's intense eyes. He noticed tiny droplets of water balanced on the ends of her lashes. She was more beautiful than any sunset on Palaven.

Oh. He was supposed to comeback with something.

“Uh,” he stuttered, internally flailing for that quondam show of indifference. Not trusting his voice, he decided on action. He reached for her head, carding his talons through her soaked hair to curl around the back. There, he applied a small amount of pressure. She instantly complied and allowed him to guide her mouth to the head of his shaft. Emboldened, he tried again. “I can think of a few ways.”

Turians that didn't date outside their race would never know the euphoric feeling of soft lips encasing their most sensitive spots. Sure, licking was nice and there was a lot of that in turian sex, but the feeling of suction... it was a concept so foreign to Garrus at the beginning of their relationship, but now it was an indulgence he couldn't imagine going without. It was all he could do to keep his knees from buckling when he felt the first touch of her lips on him. Desperately, he reached for the tiled walls, bracing himself for the first long drag of her mouth down his dick.

Garrus growled when she added her hands to her ministrations, massaging the base of him while her tongue swirled around the top.

“ _Shepard_ ,” he wantonly cried.

She looked up at her name, removing her reddened lips from him, but kept him from mourning their loss by continuing to pump him with her hands.

“I know you've been sneaking off at night to take care of this,” she told him, her hands suddenly speeding up their rhythm, dragging the most undignified whimpers from him. “You should have told me.” She lowered her head to deliver a quick, playful bite to his sensitive waist. Forget undignified whimpers. That move earned her a howl that would have been downright embarrassing had it not been Shepard that caused it. “We could have started this days ago.”

Arms still braced against the wall, his body bowed over her, he looked down and was struck with the most sinful look he had ever had the pleasure of witnessing. Physically broken and wheelchair-bound as she was, she still had him at her whim. She was still his Shepard.

Her mouth descended upon him again, tongue swirling at the tapered head before she dragged it slowly over the ridges. As she brought her mouth back up, she pulled away far enough to speak, allowing him to feel her breath as she gave a command- _'or a plea?'_

“Come for me, Garrus.”

He did.

His body shook with his violent release, his hips thrusting forward of their own accord, but having just enough sense to refrain from snapping them too hard into her mouth. Small hands with their too many fingers gripped and deftly massaged his waist, pulling as much of his orgasm as she could. When the tremors finally did subside, Garrus opened his eyes and looked down at Shepard, encountering a sight that damn near made him hard all over again. She had allowed herself to be covered in his seed. It ran from her mouth, down to her neck and chest, and some had even gotten on her thighs. As he bowed over her, his body blocked the water from immediately washing it away.

Her eyes gleamed mischievously -and perhaps a little proudly- up at him before she asked one of the most unnecessary questions Garrus had ever heard. “Good?”

He fell to his knees and pressed his brow against her own while his sub-vocals sang a song she'd never hear or fully understand.

He was hers.

“Good,” he affirmed.

 

* * *

 

Later, after toweling off and assisting Shepard back to bed, her voice rung out in the darkness, an echo of what had initially set their night into motion.

“Garrus?”

“Another shower, already?”

He felt, more than heard, her answering laughter.

“No,” she declined, shaking her head against his chest. “I just... I thought I should tell you,” she paused to consider her words. “No, _wanted_ to tell you that- well... I really needed that.”

There was _something_ to her voice that hinted a deeper meaning than just the release of sexual tension. Garrus waited for her to continue, sensing she had more to say. He filled in the silence by trailing his talons up and down her arm as he waited.

“I don't quite know how to explain.” Another quirk they had in common. They were both terrible at expressing their feelings. Thankfully, they both had a flair for understanding the other regardless. “This whole... thing” -She gestured to her body- “It really sucks. I can't join you in the field. I can't watch your six like you've always watched mine. You do so much for me that I guess I just... I don't know... Wanted to know that I can still do... _something_ for you- Not just sex, I mean. Just, something of what we had before... _this_.”

His sub-harmonics keened at the trepidation he heard in her voice.

“Shepard-”

“I know, Garrus,” she soothed, her lips planting a soft kiss on his keel. “I know I never have to prove anything to you. I just wanted you to know that I'm trying.” Her arm snaked across his chest and she squeezed him as hard as she could. “I just want what we had before. More than anything.”

Garrus shifted her against him so that he could press his mouth to the top of her head.

“If you ask me, we never lost it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another fic I highly recommend is, [Love is a Wicked Creature](http://archiveofourown.org/works/908825/chapters/1759967) by [Velasa.](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Velasa/pseuds/Velasa) This fic breathes so much life into that poor, wayward turian some of us hate, Sidonis. In fact, I'd say this was the fic that inspired me to write from the POV of a side character we learn almost nothing about from the game.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by the ever wonderful, [shretl (Girlundone)](http://archiveofourown.org/users/girlundone/pseuds/shretl)
> 
> Sorry about the delay, but I hope you enjoy this next chapter. This fic isn't meant to be a long one so it should be wrapping up within the next two or three chapters. Thank you again for the comments and kudos! :)

 

Garrus didn't think it was possible for him to feel closer to Shepard. Surely, the affection a bonded turian felt for their mate had to hit some kind of limit, or so he thought. His emotions, often stunted as he believed them to be, could only extend so far. Yet, as she always did, Shepard had a way of making the impossible probable. More to the point, she had a way of drawing forth capabilities from people who never knew that they possessed them in the first place.

He was no exception.

As they spent the early hours of the night cycle in the privacy of their cabin, stripping and cleaning their rifles while music played low in the background, Garrus loved her more than ever.

“Pass that ejector spring?” She asked without removing her eyes from the dismantled trigger pack in her hand. Garrus paused to lay down the cloth he'd been using to clean his scope and pinched the requested piece between his talons. He then reached across the desk to hover his hand above hers and inserted the component for her.

“Quality evolution you got there,” she quipped, giving his talons an approving look. “Wish I had a pair of built-in tweezers.”

“They come in handy from time to time.” He underlined his point by raising his hand to gently drag his talons along her scalp, eyeing the strands as they slipped past his fingers like copper-colored water. Her hair had definitely grown over the last couple months. He chose not to comment on the blatant, black oil streak his fingers left behind.

“You just wiped gun oil into my hair, didn't you?” She knew perfectly well that he had.

 _'Crap.'_ He was staring at it and she'd caught him.

“Don't worry, it's a good look,” he told her, but he was reaching for a clean cloth regardless.

“Uh-huh.” She fixed him with a flat stare, clearly unconvinced by his assurance. “When you're finished with that you can pass the-”

Garrus cut her off by holding the next predicted piece, an ejector lever, in an offered palm.

Shepard didn't look amused. “I was going to say shank and hammer spring.” She took the supplied piece anyway and returned her attention to the task at hand, mumbling something his translator was just able to catch: _'smart ass.'_

“Uh-huh,” he echoed her previous sound for skepticism before returning his attention to the dirty scope. He didn't, however, miss the upturned quirk of her mouth before he did so and his mandibles flicked their reply.

It was a companionable silence that fell over them and it would last well into an hour with only the low measure beating mostly club music around them. Personally, Garrus found the genre irritating. He had heard enough of it to last a lifetime during his time on Omega, but Shepard enjoyed it. Though, as she worked diligently on her project, she hardly acknowledged the music at all. Garrus always wondered if she only played it to drown out darker thoughts in her head. It was certainly mind-numbing enough for such a task. Mercifully, they were able to reach a compromise by allowing some of his favorite tracks to be mixed in as well.

“And don't you dare try to slip a remix in there, Shepard,” he told her when she selected the playlist.

“Oh, come on, they're not all bad,” she defended, attention still firmly on the trigger pack in her hand. The pins for the trigger made satisfying sounds when Shepard deftly slid them out of place with her thumbs. “Expel 10 has done some good ones.”

 _'They have,'_ he agreed privately.

“They're all terrible,” he voiced outwardly.

“I've seen your playlist on that visor of yours, Vakarian. There are more than a few dance mixes on there.”

She had him there. Still, he brushed off the point she earned with a nonchalant tilt of his head.

“I have to retain _some_ focus while I'm fighting. Playing _good_ music would make that very difficult.”

“Whatever you say,” she replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You should say that more often.”

That got her attention. Her eyes snapped up to meet his, which might have intimidated someone else, but not Garrus. Not when the corner of her mouth quirked into a smile that she was almost successful at hiding.

“Has any one ever told you thatyou talk too much?” She quipped.

“Would you like a list?”

Shepard opened her mouth to reply, but it snapped shut when her attention was suddenly grabbed by the next track that began to play. She glanced up at the ceiling as if to spot the song hovering about their heads and smiled to herself.

“I love this song,” she told him unnecessarily.

Feeling bold, Garrus stood from his seat and offered his hand expectantly. Shepard spared his outstretched limb a glance before wrapping her tiny fingers around his hand and gave it a curt shake in the human greeting. “Funny.”

“I'm sensing a bit of a setup here, Vakarian.”

“Maybe a little one,” he threw her words from _that_ night back at her. “Come on. I'll help you.”

“Garrus, I couldn't dance _before_ I lost use of my legs,” she jested, still smiling, but something flickered behind her eyes that Garrus didn't like.

“You can with the right partner,” he told her and watched her smile melt from her face. Uncertainty, Garrus realized. That's what he saw and it had become more prominent now, no longer hidden behind a defensive smile. He would have retreated if not for a different look that was mixed in so he stood there, hand still outstretched, and waited.

Slowly, tentatively, her hand found its way into his and he helped her to stand. He positioned her so that her feet were planted atop his own and he supported the bulk of her weight by wrapping his arms around her waist. At first, they moved haltingly as they pieced together each other's movements, but it wasn't long before they swayed languidly in a circle, bathed in the blue glow of the fishless tank.

“Damn, Vakarian,” she breathed, her brow pressed just to the side of his keel. “Have you been hitting the romance books or something?”

“Is it working?”

“Yeah.” Her voice wobbled slightly on the word. He was tempted to look down, eager -and a little worried- to see her expression, but decided it was probably one of those things she would prefer him not to draw attention to. Instead, he settled for a comforting hum from his sub-harmonics, knowing she'd feel them through his chest. She said nothing in response, but he didn't miss the tightening of her arms around him.

They oscillated like that for a few more minutes until she decided to break the quiet.

“While I was... gone, did you happen to tell your dad about- you know... us?”

Garrus had already found himself quieting at her usage of ' _gone._ ' It was Shepard's simple word for describing the horrible period of time when he thought she was dead. It held an all new meaning for both of them now. It was the word, as well as the question that made his steps slow to a near standstill as he remembered that awful day at the restaurant and just _how_ his father and, by proxy, Victus learned about _'_ them _.'_

“He knows.” Garrus was too late to realize how ominous that sounded before Shepard looked up at him with concern reflecting in her eyes. He hastened to tell her, “He's all right with it.”

“He is?”

Garrus huffed a laugh, disturbing the red hairs at the very top of her head. “I was surprised too. Even more surprised when he asked for a picture of us.” He wanted to laugh at how wide her eyes grew. “I gave him the one Tali took of us on Rannoch when we weren't looking.”

Shepard laid her cheek against his chest. “I like that one.”

“He does too. He...” Garrus trailed off, suddenly more aware of her weight in his arms, the healing scars on her skin from the explosion, and her shortened hair. She was _gone_ when he showed his father that picture. She was gone, but somehow,she had come back. He squeezed her to him, eternally grateful for their new shot at a future, and uttered, “Knows you saved my life that night on Earth. He's eager to meet you.”

“Wow,” she breathed.

“Who in this galaxy isn't, Shepard?” Garrus tried for a joke to lighten the weighted tension around them. He regretted it when she looked up at him with eyes moistened with unshed tears.

“Sorry,” she said, briefly removing her hand from its resting spot on the back of his cowl to wipe at her at eyes with her knuckles. “I'm just...”

“I know.” He did. Shepard had grown up alone. She never had a parent to tuck her in at night or give her advice later in life. She lived without a family until she met Anderson and then, later, the _Normandy_ crew. She had a family now, of course, but to hear that _his_ father accepted her must have hit her harder than even she expected. Though Garrus hadn't said as much, Shepard must have pieced together that she was considered part of _his_ family now as well.

Then the song changed.

“Earnestly: Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick, and think of you-” At the sound of the elcor's voice, Shepard met Garrus' gaze with slightly reddened eyes. “With passion: Caught up in circles of confusion is nothing new. Flashback, warm nights, almost left behind. Suitcases of memories, time after--” A bright smile broke through on her face and she burst into laughter.

“With resolute sincerity: If you're lost you can look and you will find me-- Time after time.” And Garrus joined her. As the elcor sang on, their laughter began to stab at their sides and brought them slowly to the floor. That's when he felt her mouth against his and her fingers under his fringe.

Garrus' laughter devolved into a primal growl against her lips and he tightened his hold on her body, wanting to feel her. Shepard moaned at the contact, offering him the opportunity to slip his tongue past her teeth in an obscene mimicry of the motions of sex. His growl would turn into a wanton groan when he felt her fingertips slide down his waist to the hem of his pants-

“Got a call coming in from the Council, Garrus.” Joker's voice cracked through both the comms and their revelry like a gunshot in a quiet bar.

Garrus emitted a second groan- this one for an entirely different reason.

“Can it wait?” He considered the effort to school the frustration from his voice to be a valiant one.

“Well, the call bypassed my filter and went straight to the comm chamber, which only happens when shit hits the fan.” The pilot paused to listen to Garrus' silence before adding. “So I'm gonna say no.”

Garrus exchanged a quick look with Shepard. They were over a galactic standard day from the intended relay that would transport them straight to the target solar system of their next mission- usual drug smuggling ring. Odd for the Council to contact them about that.

“I'll be right down,” Garrus reluctantly conceded.

“Just say the word if you need the line cut,” Joker quipped in a weird sing-song tone before he crackled out.

 

* * *

 

Garrus couldn't shake the troubled feeling that loomed over him like a storm cloud as he crossed the war room into the comm chamber. Nothing good could come from an abrupt call from the Council. He'd learned that in the early days on the SR-1 with Shepard. Nonetheless, as he stepped into the chamber and put the call through, he readied himself for the likely appearance of either the salarian or krogan Councilor. They were the usual suspects when it came to contacting him. So it stood to reason that he was a little caught off guard when Councilor Victus flickered into view.

Garrus was quick to compose himself, hiding his surprise, though he knew Victus would have noticed.

“Vakarian,” was his curt greeting.

“Councilor.”

If Garrus didn't know Victus as well as he had come to, he would have never noticed the slight slump to his shoulders as if they were giving to a cumbersome weight placed upon them. He would have looked past the strained, almost haunted look in his eyes. And he certainly wouldn't have picked up on the discreet shift of weight from one foot to the other the second Garrus' holo came through on his end. Victus was good at hiding all these things from those who didn't know what to look for, but he was obviously past the point of exhaustion to be able to hide it from Garrus.

Garrus almost pitied him enough to consider retracting his previous cold greeting and reiterating with a more agreeable, _'_ _sir'_ _._ Instead, he settled for silence, swaying his weight back on one foot and watched for more tells from his former friend.

“What is your location?” The Councilor asked.

Straight to business then.

“Just inside the border of Outer Council Space. In the Fortis star system, to be exact. We're on course for the relay in approximately thirty-one hours.” A beat, then he added, “Give or take a few pirate raids in between, of course.”

“Good.” Victus nodded, apparently pleased with the info. “Change course for Asteria.”

“Asteria,” Garrus echoed flatly. “But that's in the Hekate System.”

“Correct.”

“In the _Hades Nexus._ ” Victus stared, unmoving and unresponsive to Garrus' growing incredulity. “Which is on the other side of the galaxy from where we currently are.”

“If you're finished demonstrating the competency of Cipritine's grade schools, Vakarian.” The older turian drew himself taller and he watched Garrus with the kind of stare only years as a military general could instill. Garrus found himself fighting the urge to fidget. “I would like to explain my reasoning for sending you, and not another Spectre, over there.”

Victus paused to wait for an interruption that never came, though it almost did. Garrus had to wonder if he was aware of the exasperated _'please do'_ that was reined in at the last second.

At Garrus' silence, Victus continued.

“Judging by your _astounding-”_ The Councilor didn't sound astounded at all. “-Amount of knowledge on the galactic systems, I trust you know that Asteria is primarily an arid world, under asari rule.”

Garrus nodded, suppressing his irritation at the Councilor's condescending tone and made an effort to keep Executor Pallin from his thoughts. “Yeah. There's a couple of small eezo mines here and there that pirates like to target, but nothing worth writing home about.”

“So I thought as well, until we began receiving reports of an unusual amount of activity at one of the mines:unapproved shuttle landings, disappearances.”

“Raiders?” Garrus offered.

“That was my suspicion at first, and after reviewing satellite footage, it was confirmed. Several unauthorized frigates have landed on the colony, many of them were known vessels of pirates, but no more than the usual vermin that swoop in and are typically dispatched by local authorities. What's strange is that not one of them has left the colony again and there is no record of detainment on these vessels.”

“No offense, but this sounds like a typical pirate ring to me. They landed, set up shop, and are likely wheeling and dealing every bit of contraband they could get their slimy hands on. Frankly, I'm surprised the Council is getting involved in this at all.”

Victus nodded. “I would be too, except that every colonial authority that's been dispatched to the site has yet to return and all the disappearances are the same. No comm signal, no SOS, nothing to indicate they were taken against their will. It's as if they just vanished. The populace on Asteria are in the dark to the disappearances, but the government became concerned enough to reach out to the Asari Councilor.” Victus folded his hands behind his back and began to pace, a habit of his Garrus was quick to recognize. He likely had more floor space on his end than the small holo-comm, allowed for his projection, on Garrus' because he started walking in and out of existence; disappearing beyond the borders before reentering again. Victus' call had Garrus' curiosity before, but now he had his attention. “She's not entirely convinced it's a matter to insert ourselves in. As you said, it could be simple pirates.”

“But...?” Garrus prompted.

Victus came to a halt and he fixed Garrus with the first genuine emotion he'd seen on the man's face since he departed from the _Normandy_ all those months ago: concern.

“Something's not right, Garrus.” At the increasingly rare use of his name, Garrus instantly became just as on edge as the holographic Councilor. He held Victus' stare as an understanding flew across star systems to settle between them.

“You're thinking of the Leviathans,” Garrus observed without further preamble.

“It could be coincidental, but I can't help remembering the information you provided to me about them. The blackouts, the disappearances- I went over it all today. You've dealt with them in the past already. You know what to look for. You...” Victus trailed off at that, his holographic self staring at Garrus while he seemed to consider his next words. “You're the only one I trust to investigate this.”

For a moment, Garrus forgot his anger. Adviser and Primarch. Spectre and Councilor. Employee and Employer. It didn't matter. In that brief moment, they were sitting side-by-side in Sam's bar again, getting shit-faced and opening up like comrades do.

Garrus could think of nothing else to say except, “Understood, sir.”

 

* * *

 

“Just another routine mission.” Shepard reclined against the crate Garrus had placed her on while they waited for the rest of the ground team to file into the docking bay. She leaned herself back against the bulkhead and fixed him with a wry smile, devoid of mirth.

“Are they ever?” Garrus countered, not bothering to look up from his omni-tool. He knew it pained her to watch him leave without her on regular missions, but the possible involvement of an old nemesis drove the knife of this departure in just a little deeper. Shepard was the one who confronted them, stood before them and convinced them that their cycle was one worth saving- not Garrus.

Not wanting to see the disapproval on her face, he busied himself with a diagnostic run on the target facility. For once, he was grateful for a slow loading bar.

“Remind me, what was the previous one before Victus waylaid you?”

“Drug ring.”

A wistful sigh was the only reply he received.

“It still could be,” he prompted with a reassuring hum to his voice. Only they would find comfort in the idea of busting a highly dangerous trafficking syndicate. The loading bar had just passed seventy-five percent.

“Think so?”

“We'll find out.”

Shepard opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the lift as it _pinged_ the arrival of its passengers.

Garrus caught the fleeting, _'guess we will,'_ before he turned to address his crew.

“I'm in the mood for some valuable intel, Liara. What have you got for me?” He asked her as she made her way towards him and Shepard. Zaeed, Miranda, Grunt, and Javik followed not far behind.

“Nothing good, I'm afraid,” Liara replied, pausing to bring up her own omni-tool. “I've been over the layout of the building several times over. It would seem we only have one clear-cut option for an entrance.”

“Don't say the front door,” Garrus warned.

“I'm sorry, but most of the facility is built straight into the ground. The place is just about impregnable.”

Zaeed scoffed and folded his arms across his chest. “You give me three sticks of dynamite, coated in Red sand, and I'll impregnate the bitch.”

“Charming,” Miranda commented, pinning Zaeed with a look fueled by disdain.

“We could just blow past the door,” Grunt offered.

“The objective is to _observe_ ,” Garrus felt the need to remind them. “Blasting holes in the building or shooting the front desk clerk isn't going to help with that.

“What if it _is_ pirates?” The young krogan asked with what sounded distinctly like hope. Like a very large kid about to get rewarded with a trip to the toy store.

“Then we blow their heads off.” Grunt looked desperate to follow that offer up so Garrus hastened with, “but that only becomes an option _after_ we know what we're dealing with.”

“Agreed,” Liara nodded.

“Did you even read the mission report I sent you?” Garrus' eyes narrowed suspiciously on the krogan and was met with a non-committal shrug.

“Didn't bother. You guys like to talk so much, I knew I'd hear all about it either way.” Garrus just managed to repress a frustrated sigh, but Grunt still found something on his expression that caused him to roll his eyes. “What? I stopped reading those a long time ago. You talk too much. Just tell me who needs killing.”

Did Grunt give Shepard this kind of grief? Garrus couldn't recall. Maybe she was just better at rolling with it. He certainly made Garrus miss Grundan Krul.

“Our target,” Garrus began, internally clawing for patience. “Is one Le'mela Corp Mining Facility, located smack dab in the middle of a lovely wasteland, coincidentally called Le’mela Oasis. From what I understand, it isn't much of one.” He returned his gaze to his asari compatriot.“Liara, were you able to crack their database?”

“I secured a list of security codes as well as a roster of all the employee names. I've already taken the liberty of forging some badges.”

“Good,” Garrus nodded. “Hopefully that'll make getting past the front desk a little less bloody.”

He ignored Grunt's disapproving grumble, but he didn't miss the sharp look Javik exchanged with Liara.

“There is one problem," she conceded, glancing away from her companion's stern look to give Garrus an apologetic one.

 _'Nothing is ever easy,'_ Garrus thought.

“What?”

“There aren't any krogan on the list or...” she glanced at the silent prothean beside her.

“Or protheans,” Garrus stated the obvious, not liking the insinuation. They would have to enter into a building, likely crowded with hostiles, without the help of their two squad mates best fit for that job. Well, he still had Zaeed, but...

The man in question stepped forward. “You got me for that,” he said, also picking up on the implication.

 _'Tempting,'_ Garrus considered. _'But...'_

“Not this one, Zaeed. I'll need you to hang back and keep the engine running, so to speak.”

“You want me to be a goddamn getaway driver?”

“No offense, but you're about as subtle as an incendiary device at an oil refinery.” Garrus paused a beat, letting the old merc marinate in the jab at his past deeds.

“That was different and you damn well know it!” Zaeed snapped.

“Zaeed, merc ships have been spotted entering the territory,” Garrus explained. “We don't know if the Blue Suns are involved and, if they are, we can't risk any one of them potentially recognizing you. Your reputation hasn't exactly improved much with them.”

“He's got a point.” Garrus was slightly surprised to hear Miranda, of all people, speak up in his defense. They didn't exactly have anything against each other, but she certainly wasn't someone Garrus considered himself particularly close to. Miranda turned her attention to Shepard, who had been silently watching the exchange from her perch on the shipping crate. “If you recall, Commander, it was Zaeed, you, and mewho went to retrieve Archangel,-” No one noticed the way Garrus' mandibles fluttered with unease at the mention of his old title. “-Zaeed's presence was beneficial then because of how recognizable he was to the Blue Suns. We wanted them to trust us.”

Shepard nodded at the recollection. “True. I agree with Garrus.”

Zaeed bristled and rounded on the aforementioned turian. “I've been infiltrating bases longer than you've been alive, _boy!_ ”

Zaeed took a step toward him, and Garrus felt his plates itch. Insubordination was not something he had a lot of experience dealing with-well... He certainly had experience being the cause of it, but not of being on the receiving end. Garrus felt himself go cold in response as unbidden memories flooded into him and he found himself stepping in to further close the space between them.

“And I'm sure they're fond memories,” he replied, his voice a cold note that was almost unrecognizable to his own aural canals. The relative sound was the same, but the tone was entirely someone else... No. He did know the tone, though it wasn't his own. “But if blending in with a hub of mercs is what I need to do to complete this mission, I will _not_ allow a mug like yours to give me away. Because,-” He took another step forward. “-and you know I hate to be the bearer of bad news-” Another step “-you're not exactly-” They were face to face now, close enough for Garrus to growl the final word against the old merc's face- “ _Indistinguishable_.”

Zaeed held his gaze for what felt like minutes, though it was likely only seconds. Their audience was silent and still, with the exception of the way Shepard shifted uneasily at the edge of his vision. Then, as quickly as the tension rose, it abated when Zaeed crossed his arms between himself and the towering turian. He then took a step back with an unenthusiastic: “Have it your way then.”

Garrus was able to hammer out a final plan with his ground team before they momentarily dispersed to gear up. They didn't want to risk the _Normandy_ getting picked up by Asteria's satellite, so they would depart in a kodiak and land in the city of Ta'relle, located just a hundred klicks from Le'mela Corp Mining Facility. From there, they would secure an unmarked skycar to fly the remaining distance to the mine. Garrus, Liara, and Miranda would suit up on the way there, donning the unremarkable brown jumpers of a Le'mela mine worker.They would then hide their vehicle, leaving Zaeed behind with several guns in case they found themselves in need of a quick escape, and infiltrate the building.

As his ground team scattered to collect their effects, Garrus approached Shepard one last time. He lowered himself on the crate beside her, feeling the warmth of her as he watched his crew mill about. He used the calm of her presence to reflect on the troubling confrontation with Zaeed. The fact that it happeneddidn't trouble him. It was the way he handled it, the voice he spoke with. It wasn't his own, but at the same time it was. He wanted to claim he didn't recognize it, but he did. All too well.

Perhaps some of the Primarch's idiosyncrasies had rubbed off on him after all, bringing to light some old Archangel mannerisms he'd long thought buried.

Garrus wasn't sure how to feel about that.

He was aware of the tension in his body and he did his best to hide it, but he knew he'd fail in that effort when it came to Shepard. She read him like a book, but as strange as it was, he was perfectly all right with that; found a comfort in it.

If either one of them was compromised in any way, they would know.

“Congratulations,” she said. “I'd say you passed.”

Garrus looked at her questioningly so she tilted her head in Zaeed's general direction. The man in question was too busy fastening grenades to his belt to notice his newly acquired attention.

Garrus didn't follow. “You think that was a test?” He asked, tone heavy with skepticism.

“Absolutely.” She nodded.

“Funny, I seem to recall a similar situation between you and him back on Zorya.”

“Exactly.” He loved Shepard, but he always knew she was crazy. Garrus fixed her with a look to express as much and she smiled in return.

“You can't be serious.”

“I am.”

“Shepard, I know you strive to see the good in everyone- it's an annoying habit of yours, but even you have to admit that he wasn't so much testing you as he was completely and utterly pissed off at you.”

Her smile cracked even wider and her eyes lit up with mirth. “Oh, no arguing with you there. He wanted me _dead_ that day.” Shepard was still smiling, which would have looked odd, after a statement like that on any other person. For some reason though, it suited her. “Then I shoved a gun in his face, told him to get in line, and we've been bosom buddies ever since.” Shepard's eyes flickered momentarily to Zaeed before returning to him. “Zaeed likes you, Garrus. Hell, he probably likes you more than me if all the traps and bombs in Anderson's apartment mean anything- thanks for that, by the way. He has no problem trusting you as a squad mate, but he needed to trust you as a leader and until now, you haven't given him a reason to challenge you.”

Garrus shot Shepard a dubious expression. “You put me in charge of that squad in the Collector Base with him in it. That wasn't enough?”

To that, Shepard shrugged. “A lot of time has passed since then.” Shepard paused to lay a hand on his pauldron and her smile softened into a reassuring one. “What I'm trying to say is you did-you're _doing_ well. I'm proud of you.”

She said the words he wasn't even aware he needed to hear. Read him like a book indeed.

Garrus flicked his mandibles into a grateful smile.

“Thanks, Shepard.” He would have said more, _wanted_ to say more, but his words were intercepted by the abrupt arrival of the only prothean in the galaxy.

“A moment,” was all Javik said before wheeling on the spot and walking briskly to a private corner of the shuttle bay.

“It's fine,” Shepard told him, urging him to follow the prothean. “Just come say goodbye before you leave.”

Garrus lifted himself from the crate and made his way across the floor to where Javik stood. He got the feeling this was a personal matter so he tried to appear as inconspicuous as possible. When he reached him, the prothean took a long moment to just stare at him. As the seconds ticked by, Garrus began to wonder if this was some sort of trick until Javik finally spoke.

“I wonder,” he began. “Did the commander ever speak with you over what she and I discussed pertaining to the Echo Shard?”

“A little,” Garrus admitted. “She said you touched it and saw memories of your people before the Reapers... and after.”

“Yes.” Javik stared again, grim faced and unmoving. “And did she tell you what we spoke of on Earth, before the Reapers fell?”

“No,” Garrus told him, voice subdued.

“I told her that I wanted to die. I expressed my plans to go to the Cronian Nebula, put the ghosts of my men to rest, and then join them.” Javik turned his head, all four eyes landing on Liara as she stooped to pile their disguises into a duffle bag, oblivious to the conversation at hand. In that moment, Garrus saw all he needed to understand their relationship. “When the Normandy returned to Earth, I left immediately, but... that infuriating asari followed.” Garrus would have laughed if Javik's tone wasn't so grave. The prothean met his gaze again and said, “She stopped me. For good or ill, I am alive because of her.” He blinked then, which somehow lightened the darkened mood. Perhaps his version of a minuscule smile?

“She wants me to help her write some absurd book.” Another blink. “And I intend to. To that end-” His voice dropped an octave and Garrus suddenly found himself on the receiving end of an icy, quadruple glare. “If you return without her, know that I will boil your gizzard and feed it to you.”

With Javik's words of encouragement ringing in his head, Garrus boarded the shuttle with five of his six crew in tow. Garrus, Miranda, and Liara would infiltrate the mine while Zaeed and Grunt lay low with the skycar, ready to call in if any changes on the outside of the facility occur and, if necessary, provide additional firepower.

The ride was a bumpy one. Garrus had recruited a Kodiak pilot some weeks back; a woman in her thirties with dark skin and bright purple hair, named Lluvia Hernandez. She hadn't really been tested yet, but from what Garrus could tell, she was as good a pilot as Steve. She had years of practice flying Cerberus shuttles- a fact that greatly dismayed Garrus. He would have rejected her outright if not for the recommendation of Miranda Lawson.

“The Illusive Man deserved what he got,” Miranda told him while hovering over his shoulder as he reviewed Hernandez's application. “But this woman is one of many Cerberus employees that walked away when Shepard did. More to the point, she's good at what she does.” She fixed him with a meaningful look and told him, “Not everyone in the organization had nefarious intentions.”

Garrus went over the plan with his team a few times on the ride down through Asteria's atmosphere, answering questions and concerns or, in Grunt's case, lack thereof.

“I wait outside until you tell me to kill,” the krogan recited without enthusiasm. “I got it.”

Asteria's star, Hekate, was already setting when the Kodiak finally touched down in the city of Ta'relle and the hatch _hissed_ open to an impressive, albeit, morbid sight. The beauty of the city, bathed in the orange light of the yellow dwarf as it was, still managed to shine past the massive amount of destruction. In a ghoulish way, it reminded Garrus of past domestic abuse victims he had visited during his C-sec days- still managing to smile past the blackened eyes and broken teeth.

Clearly, rebuilding this colony was not at the top of the asari's list.

Ta'relle was nestled in the valley of a rocky, sunburntcanyon. Russet-colored stone pillars projected from the ground to stand as monoliths against the test of time. Of course, most of them lay toppled now. As he gazed upon the ramparts of the city, could almost picture how it must have looked before. He imagined bright lights shining through every open window and outlining the rooftops and balconies of every building. He noticed broken pipes and pump systems that likely cascaded water down the sides of the architecture, further lit up by the illuminationbehind it in what he was sure made a stunning, if not wasteful, display. In the distance, the ruins of a biotiball stadium stood wrecked and alone, with the ghosts of past audiences cheering in the air.

Now, the remaining buildings stood like hollowed husks of what they once were, still elaborate and ostentatious per asari standard, but in a very new and broken way. Many were long and rounded, ringed with balconies that made them look ridged all the way up like-

Garrus paused to squint at a cluster of them. Actually, they looked strangely phallic in shape, at least by turian standards. He took mental note not to comment on that to the locals. On that thought, he glanced around at the dusty streets.

_'If there are any locals.'_

Indeed, there were. No doubt the city had seen far heavier pre-war populations. The citizens without jobs at the nearby mine would have likely fled for worlds higher on the 'rebuilding list.' Still, some peered out their doors as they walked by, though none wore welcoming expressions. Garrus was beginning to think that taking a skycar would be out of the question. Hell, he'd consider himself lucky if they stumbled across one that even looked like it was still in working order.

“I could get use to this place,” Grunt commented, staring approvingly at a skeletal building. “Reminds me of home.”

“This is horrible,” Liara lamented, far less amused than their krogan squadmate.

“Let's just find a car,” was Garrus' reply as he walked ahead of the group on the lonely streets.

Eventually they found one that wasn't too broken. It was parked outside a smashed home and clearly abandoned. Miranda neatly stacked four piles of cinder blocks with the use of her biotics while Liara used hers to lift the car and position it on top of them. She had to employ a little bit of haste to lift the car before Grunt could move to grab it.

“I could have done that,” the krogan sulked, but Garrus ignored him as he removed his gauntlets and got to work.

It took the better part of an hour to get the car running again, most of it spent scavenging for parts from other wrecked vehicles. After a couple test runs- he allowed Grunt to manually move the car off the blocks- Garrus and his ground team took to the air just as the sky darkened to a navy blue.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brownie points if you found the Game of Thrones reference. :)
> 
> This week's recommendation is [Faith and Hope](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4946137/chapters/11353738) by [maqqy96.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maqqy96/pseuds/maqqy96) I'm not really into Saren/Shepard, but it's extremely well executed in this series. This author has a wonderful, and rather colorful, way with words that will leave you both shivering with fear one minute and (literally) laughing out loud the next. Definitely worth a read if you haven't yet. At the very least, read [this chapter.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5924263/chapters/22552532) It won't spoil anything and I guarantee it will brighten your day.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by the ever wonderful, [shretl (Girlundone).](http://archiveofourown.org/users/girlundone/pseuds/shretl) <3

The flight wasn't a long one- an hour tops. With the auto flight deactivated and Zaeed at the throttle, Garrus felt sure he was making the best possible time. Grunt sat in the passenger seat while Garrus wedged himself between Liara and Miranda in the back for one very important reason.

Volio Domiso, the turian Garrus intended to impersonate, fortunately had similar hide and plating as he did, but he sported the red facial markings of Vallum, the capital city on Taetrus. Not to mention the obvious lack of scars so, regrettably, makeup was a requirement for this mission.

Miranda, with her hands under the protection of latex gloves, smiled softly while she dabbed at Garrus' face with a tiny sponge, erasing his blue tattoos under a cover of metallic concealer. They had wrapped themselves in plastic to protect their clothes -and _her_ skin- from the somewhat corrosive substance.

“You seem to be having fun,” he commented, though he was beginning to worry that he had stumbled over a bump of inter-species awkwardness. He hoped he wasn't inadvertently participating in some kind of human mating ritual Shepard had yet to share with him.

“Sorry?” Her smile faded.

“You're smiling.”

“Oh.” Her smile hesitantly returned as she looked away to re-coat the sponge. “It's trivial, really.”

 _'Good,'_ Garrus thought, relieved. _'Crisis averted.'_

Miranda took a moment to sweep the sponge along his nose before she went on. “I was just remembering how much I wished I could do this sort of thing with Oriana.”

“Is this a... human thing?” He was now certain this wasn't a mating ritual, but he was still curious. Maybe this was something he should do with Shepard, regardless.

Miranda's hand briefly hovered above his maxilla while she considered her words. “I suppose it is. Between close friends and... sisters. Well... some sisters. Obviously, not us. Ori's beyond needing that sort of help now.” She puffed a laugh through her nose, but Garrus didn't miss the note of regret to her tone. “I'd say she's better at this than I am at this point.”

“Should I hire her instead?”

“You could,” she concurred, pausing to spread a new layer of concealer over his nose. Garrus could feel the substance slightly clogging the indents in this bridge. "Though, nanite technology isn't precisely her field of study. Shepard might not appreciate the results."

Garrus just stopped his mandible from flaring into a smile. He and Miranda never had a particularly warm friendship or... really any kind of relationship. She was always sort of distant, even cold towards him and, if he was being honest, he had never exactly 'welcomed her with open arms,' as Shepard would say. Yet, as the hard plates of his face stood in for her foregone sisterhood fantasies, he thought, just maybe, she could be thawing towards him now.

Once she'd finished erasing the obvious physical features that set him apart from other turians, she moved on to the red paint. He considered doing it himself, but applying colony markings was considered an art form, and one of the few respected in most turian cultures. He, to his private regret, was not an artistic turian in the traditional sense of the word. He painted with the blood of his enemies; his rifle was his brush.

So, with surgical precision and a holo template of the markings to draw from, Miranda dipped a brush into the corrosive paint and began to draw it over his face.

“Is that acetone you're smearing on his face?” Zaeed sneered from the front seat, nostrils flared and ringed by several prominent wrinkles.

“It does smell like it,” Liara confirmed, her voice sounded nasal as a result of her nose being pinched between her fingers.

“I can bloody taste it!” Zaeed shot Garrus an appalled look.

“I like it,” Grunt grunted.

“At least open a goddamn window!”

“Don't you dare,” Miranda replied to the old merc's suggestion. At least she was making a valiant effort to hide the disgust from her face, though even she wasn't immune, evidenced by her grimace.

“Just keep her steady, Zaeed,” said Garrus once the brush had moved a safe distance from his mouth.

“'Keep her steady,' he says,”the grizzled merc grumbled, turning his attention back to the sky. “Be lucky if I don't pass out from the fumes.”

It only took about twenty minutes before Miranda placed the brush back into its container and sealed the paint up. She then appraised her work with a satisfied smile. Garrus took it as his cue to raise his omni and run a scan on his face, closing his eyes when the orange light flickered over them. After a couple seconds, a holographic bust of his head appeared above his raised wrist.

It was a strange sight to see. It looked like him, but at the same time, it didn't. His scars were gone, and though the holo was orange in color, the familiar lines he was used to seeing when he looked in a mirror were too. He had lines sweeping over his fringe now, similar to that of Palaven tattoos like Victus', with some stark differences besides the red color. Where the Palaven tattoos continue from the crest over the nose and mouth, those of Taetrus leave the face, below the brow, completely bare of paint, instead framing it by lining the mandibles and chin.

Garrus couldn't even recall the last time he'd seen his nose and maxilla without paint streaked across it. He wished Shepard was there to see him. He couldn't help but wonder what she would think so he took a moment to send the holo to her omni-tool. He received his answer within seconds.

**S. Shepard [Hades Nexus, Hekate System]  
19:21**

**Wow. Who's your friend, Garrus?** ;)

 

 **G. Vakarian [** _**Location blocked, location blocked]  
** _ **19:21**

**Down, girl. Don't embarrass me.**

 

He smiled as he hit 'send' before regarding the artist.

“It appears to have passed the Shepard test,” he informed her.

“I'll take that,” she nodded.

At thirty minutes from their destination, it was Liara's turn. She and Garrus had to awkwardly shimmy themselves over and under each other so that she could take his place in the middle of the seat.In hindsight, Miranda should have been the one in the middle, but that couldn't be helped now. Once settled, Garrus turned his attention out the window. It was hard to tell in the dark, but every now and again they'd pass a lit sign or the rare working streetlight that showed that the sand below had begun to transform from a rusty orange to a deep purple.

Garrus thought it was probably a sight to see in the daylight. Maybe he'd bring Shepard back here someday.When Ta'relle is rebuilt, of course. And when they weren't working. Maybe they could even retire here.

When would they retire?

“I'm bringing her down here,” Zaeed informed. “Should be just outside the radar.”

Garrus glanced at the coordinates at the dash and agreed. They were far enough away that the sand dunes would render their car -and their krogan- invisible to anyone looking. Once landed, they all climbed out and took a moment to stretch their limbs and crack their necks. Grunt looked especially appreciative for the chance to move. He always looked cramped in any vehicle he rode in.

“What do you think?” Liara asked him as she pulled the white mining uniform over her battle suit. Out of the three of them, she required the least amount of work. The asari she was imitating had the same skin and eye color, only differing in that she lacked facial markings.

It was strange to see Liara without the speckling under her eyes and over her nose. And the lack of- Garrus had to think of the word- 'eyebrows' was a little jarring as well.

“Well, you don't look like you anymore.”

“I'll take that as a compliment.”

They took a few more minutes to go over the plan again, much to Grunt's dismay. Garrus, Miranda, and Liara left the car to journey over the dunes toward the facility, using the cover of night to hide where they were coming from. He felt fairly confident in their disguises. Factories, like the one they were about to enter, typically had more employees than anyonecould keep track of without a database, which their badges would see to. As long as they didn't talk directly to any one inside, they should go relatively unnoticed... assuming the place _wasn't_ infested with raiders, using it as a contraband ring.

In that case, they'll stick out badly, but at least the course of action wouldthen be made clear; put the pirates down and search for survivors.

Garrus' hand fingered his shield generator nervously. His armor was too bulky and noticeable under the mining uniform so he, unfortunately, had to leave it behind. In its place, he just wore his undersuit, which still offered some protection with his shields plus a synthetic weave, but nowherenear the amount that his hardsuit provided.

As they crossed the dark desert and approached the entrance, it quickly became clear that something was very wrong. Vehicles, both sky and ground, were strewn everywhere with dusty, undisturbed steering wheels. The vehicles built solely for ground travel sat with their tires half buried in the sand and any sign of tire tracks, which they would have left behind to get to their current spots, had long been wiped clean by the desert winds. The sand around the entrance was much the same- completely undisturbed, which meant that no one had entered or, perhaps most disturbing, _left_ in days. Though, Garrus suspected it had been longer than that.

One male human and one asari came into view, housed behind a pane of glass and dimly lit by the consoles they sat in front of. They didn't even look up as the trio approached them. Garrus spared one look with his ground team before he raised a knuckle to tap on the glass. The sound garnered the human and asari's attention, but not in the way Garrus expected. Their heads raised slightly and their eyes swiveled, at the same time and _speed_ , slowly to him.

"Can we help you?” The asari droned, void of emotion and Garrus was suddenly slammed with images of the mining facility on the Mahavid asteroid. He exchanged a quick look with the only member of his team that was with him and Shepard when they were looking for Garneau. The concern Liara met him with confirmed his suspicions.

Victus was right.

“No,” Garrus replied outwardly.

 _'I'm the one that needs to help you,'_ he thought internally.

Garrus briefly considered going back for Zaeed and Grunt, but ultimately decided against it. They still needed to enter the facility in order to find the artifact these people had come into contact with and destroy it. To that end, they still had to blend in lest they draw attention and anger the hive.

Knowing he'd gain no useful information from the desk clerks, they proceeded passed the glass booth to approach a metal door. It opened with a _whir_ to admit them inside without resistance.

Stepping past the threshold, they found themselves in a stark white lobby, surrounded by idle workers and mind-numbing workplace propaganda. Holo-screens dotted the walls from one end of the room to the other, looping through an endless spiel of the company logo (~*LCMF*~™), the current safety record, and most obnoxious of all, a vid of an overexcited asari that spouted a reel of recorded pep talks and safety precautions on each rotation.

~*LCMF*~™

 _ **946**_ DAYS SINCE LAST INCIDENT

“ _Don't be hard-headed! Wear a hard hat!”_

Metal and chrome lined the walkways, causing their footsteps to emit a light staccato of noises as they moved.

~*LCMF*~™

 _ **946**_ DAYS SINCE LAST INCIDENT

_“Whether you're pleated or plated, failing to hold the handrail could leave you incapacitated!"_

"I'm going to shoot every screen in here," Garrus growled at an octave only his team would hear.

"Don't you dare," Liara hissed, though she quickened her pace all the same, just as eager to put the lobby behind them. This was simply where big-shots and investors met to discuss funding in the eezo that was mined. Behind closed doors, however, the effort to impress visitors would surely subside.

~*LCMF*~™

 _ **946**_ DAYS SINCE LAST INCIDENT

“ _Here at Le'mela Corp Mining Facility, we love all our employees like family!"_

Garrus spared a pitying thought to all the so-called'loved' employees who worked here and had to endure this looping monologue day in and day out, ad nauseum. It was its own kind of torture. Spirits, Leviathan taking control of their minds was probably a reprieve from it all.

They certainly didn't appear to hear it anymore as they stood around, staring off at walls or at each other, unmoving and unresponsive. Occasionally, some would slowly turn their heads to look at them as they walked by, but they watched with dead, unseeing eyes.

“No wonder there hasn't been any 'incidents',” Liara observed, her eyes set on a mindless turian who stood alone, participating in the very safe activity of watching a fake plant.

Miranda, who had no previous experience with the Leviathans' work, looked around with confusion etched across her face.

“What's wrong with these people?” She asked, careful to keep her voice low.

“You'll see,” Garrus replied, his voice equally low so as not to draw attention.

Garrus picked a corner and led his team around it and away from the bureaucratic hub. He could hear the cheerful asari's voice mercifully fading behind him. Then he ducked into an empty office and he heard it no more.

The room was as white and uninteresting as the rest of the building outside. Fake plants adorned the corners and the only desk stood with a layer of dust dulling the shine of the wooden finish.

He looked at Miranda and tilted his head in a silent order: _Keep watch._ As she moved to do so, Garrus and Liara took the time to scan the room for bugs and cameras. When they were satisfied with theafforded level of privacy, Garrus raised his omni-tool to download a building layout via satellite feed, confirming his Spectre status for clearance when prompted. When the download was finished, he raised it on his arm, waved Liara to his side, and activated his earpiece so Miranda could hear their discussion.

“I doubt the artifact is on this level,” Garrus told them. His free hand rose to touch the lower levels of the holographic outline, highlighting the subterranean floors in a teal blue. “They'll want it hidden somewhere lower. Somewhere safer.”

“The mining tunnels.” Liara frowned. “That could take days of searching.” She looked past his shoulder to the computer lying dormant on the desk. Its only company was a picture frame, depicting a long forgotten human family. “Maybe we can find a lead in here.”

Without further invitation, Liara crossed the room and sat down at the computer- she had to dust off the seat first. She then dipped to insert a chip into the computer. The act had the effect of sharpening her focus on the screen and her too many fingers went into motion, flying across the interface. The Shadow Broker had emerged.

While he waited, Garrus swiped the building layout away in order to open up communications with the _Normandy._

“Shepard,” Garrus spoke into his omni.

“Don't tell me,” came Shepard's voice. Undoubtedly, she picked up on the gravity of his tone.

“If you insist.”

“It's not.”

“It is.”

“Damn it!” Garrus pictured Shepard with her eyes turned up toward the ceiling, tempering her anger while she searched for words.

“It's just like Mahavid,” he informed her. “Dead-eyed staff, monotone responses, and I don't think it has anything to do with low moral due to poor working conditions.”

That would have earned him at least a smirk, he knew, if her mood hadn't been so soured by the current news.

“Any ideas where the artifact is?” She asked.

“Assuming it's just one, Liara's working on it.”

“Garrus,” the aforementioned asari beckoned. “Come look at this. You too, Miranda.”

Miranda cast one last furtive glance down both directions of the hallway before she turned to join Liara at the desk. She bent to place her hands on the surface and stared intently at the holo-screen.

“I've got to go.”

“Keep me informed?”

“You know I will.”

“Garrus?” He knew that tone.

“ _Hm_?”

“Be careful.”

“'In like Flynn,'” he quoted her. “I know the drill.”

Miranda's eyes were glued to the screen, too enraptured to even glance at him when he stepped up beside her. Garrus bent to get a better view, but all he saw were a list of names that meant nothing to him.

“Friends of yours?” He asked, directing the question at both the asari and human.

“Perhaps too strong a word,” Miranda answered, still without looking at him. She then reached across Liara to tap her finger on a single name. A picture of a dark-haired, female human popped up along with a very detailed profile of her background. Garrus only needed to scan the screen for a second to understand what had Miranda so enthralled with the name.

**Dr. Akari Saitō**

**Age:** 41

 **Height:** 157.5 cm

 **Weight:** 49.90 kg

 _Under the former employment of Cerberus, Dr. Saitō accrued an unprecedented number of hours researching both VI and AI development. While the status of Dr. Saitō's former employer is troubling, as of 2186 she has passed our patent pending_ _Le'mela Corp. Psychiatric Evaluation for Soundness of Mind (LeCPESM) with flying colors. Of course, her former studies in AI development do not, in any way, reflect the beliefs or ambitions of ~*LCMF*~™, but her knowledge of such matters has made Dr. Saitō an invaluable member of the Le'Mela family._

“'Does not, in any way, reflect our beliefs and ambitions,” Liara parroted the text with a tone steeped in skepticism.

“Meaning, that's exactly what they hired her for,” Garrus replied darkly.

Looking at the time-stamp of the profile, Dr. Saitō was hired shortly before Shepard was incarcerated. She must have been one of many Cerberus staff to defect when Shepard did. Garrus watched as Liara pulled up the doctor's reports that she had typed herself. Garrus scanned through the files quickly until he stumbled across something that caught his eye, dated just a few weeks before the start of the Reaper invasion.

“ _Today the miners pulled up something remarkable. I've never seen anything like it. I hypothes_ _ize it's some sort of ancient device, maybe prothean, though I suspect it's older than that. It has to be. I want to study it as much as I can so I'm going to put in a request to have my office moved, as a matter of convenience, to be closer to it.”_

Then another entry, dated just four days after the previous one.

“ _Success! Not only am I moving down to the subterranean levels, but they're actually going to allow me to keep the device in my office. I know moving down in floors is typically considered an unfa_ _vorable result, but I couldn't be more excited for this opportunity.”_

Liara opened up a third entry, dated during the height of the war.

“ _Well, they're finally calling for evacuations off Asteria. I know I should go, but I'm so close to cracking the code o_ _n this thing. Leaving it just seems so wrong. Maybe it's the old Cerberus mindset talking, but this thing could put humanity on the map if I just had a little more time. I don't want to leave it behind. It helps with my anxiety. It's so calming.”_

Garrus' mandibles pinched against his face as he watched the doctor seemingly decline further with every entry. The next entry was dated after the war, around the time the relays reopened. The shortness of it sent a chill up his spine.

“ _I'm where I belong.”_

Garrus reactivated the building layout on his 'tool and scrolled to the subterranean levels, still highlighted teal blue. He then poked his finger at the office as pinpointed by the doctor's profile.

“Here,” he said. “At least we have a start.”

“Garrus.” There was a hollowness to Miranda's voice that grabbed his attention instantly. She finally tore her eyes from the screen and looked up at him with an ashen face. “Dr. Saitō was at the head of the department that worked on EDI.”

Garrus froze as a million questions and implications raced to the forefront of his brain. If there was information about EDI's development somewhere in this facility, surely he couldn't leave without it. Then again, obtaining the how-to on an illegal AI was definitely not his mission's prerogative and if he did waste time to pursue this, and it turned out to be nothing, what sort of message would that be to the Council, to Victus, of what kind of Spectre he is?

Yet... if he failed to look into this, how could he look Joker in the eye again, knowing he was willing to put his own record over his happiness? He probably missed EDI just as much as Garrus had missed Shepard.

After parsing through it all, he locked eyes with Liara and asked, “Is there anything worth pulling from her file pertaining to that?”

“I'm not sure,” Liara told him, but she was already pulling up folders.

Garrus knew they couldn't sit there all night, staring at the screen for some small hope that the good doctor had left a crumb trail for them to follow.

“Download everything that's there,” he found himself saying. “And send it to Shepard. She can look through it while we look for the artifact.”

“Got it,” affirmed Liara.

“Two artifacts, actually.” Garrus, Liara, and Miranda instantly flew into motion at the unfamiliar voice. Garrus drew his pistol while both Miranda and Liara's hands rose and crackled with dark energy. Their eyes shot up to the doorway where they discovered a thin, green-haired, male human standing with his hands raised high in the air in surrender. “Whoa, whoa! Easy, man. Be cool. I just want to help, that's all.”

Garrus said nothing in response, choosing to let his pistol speak for him by keeping it trained on the human's unprotected forehead. His lack of reply was all Miranda and Liara needed to keep their biotics at the ready as well.

“Look, I'm stuck here!” The human earnestly declared. “Everyone here is acting like a zombie except me, but they won't let me leave. I've been here for weeks!”

“Why are you here?” Garrus asked, knowing he wasn't an employee.

"You might be familiar with some of my work,” he cried, fear beginning to color his tone. “' _W-what the Dalatrass Knew_ '...? _”_

Garrus did not reply again, which made the human even more anxious. Beads of sweat sprung from the pores of his forehead and went trailing down his face.

"' _What the Drell Don't Know: And the Hanar Won't Say_...?'” More silence. “Uhh... ' _STG: The Forbidden Files_?'”

“Bernard Plim,” Liara informed, though her biotics remained active. “He hacked into the Alliance News Network during the war.”

A shaky smile broke across the human's face, relieved that someone in the room could identify him. His eyes shifted uneasily between Liara and Garrus. “That's right. Founder and president of the Conspiracy Accountability League.”

“You never answered my question,” Garrus growled, his sub-harmonics rumbled the sound clear across the room. He didn't miss the way the human's fingers seemed to tremble harder in the air.

“I'm here for the exact same reason I hounded Hackett for answers!” He blurted, his chest rose and fell with his rapid, shallow breaths. “For the same reason I hacked ANN. I'm looking for answers on Leviathan.”

“Why?” Garrus asked, keeping his voice level, but with a hint of warning that the human better keep talking.

“For the same reason you are, I bet. This thing's serious business and I'm tired of the Council and the Alliance trying to cover it up. The people deserve to know they aren't safe. We're never safe!” The human- Bernard- chewed on his trembling lower lip. “That's why I'm here, but like I said before, I can't leave now. Every time I try, Bonnie and Clyde out there won't open the door. I'm willing to bet you're stuck in here too.” He chanced a tentative step forward, hands still high in the air. “You're the first people I've seen in weeks that aren't acting crazy.”

“How long have you been here?” Garrus countered.

“Uh... three weeks now... I think? Look man, I just want out and I think I can help you. I found information on both artifacts from-er... hacking the computers.” Sheepishly, he added, “Not like I had anything else to do.”

“Then tell us what you know,” Miranda chimed in. “We'll sort this out and come get you on our way back up.”

Bernard shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot. “No offense, lady, but the way I see it, you need me and I need you. If I just tell you, who's to say you won't just leave me in here? If I have to listen to that asari rhyme 'plated' again, I'm gonna lose it!”

Garrus could see his point. He was obviously a sneaky little worm, prone to irritating people, and likely had past experiences of getting ditched. Spirits, Garrus couldn't deny the temptation of trying his luck without Bernard's help if only to save himself the time of having to speak with him more. Then again, he could sympathize with the poor guy when it came to not wanting to listen to that awful safety spiel again. Getting stuck listening to that, on repeat, was a fate worsethan death.

After the course of five seconds, Garrus lowered his gun, which prompted his team to dissipate their biotic energy.

“Alright, _Bernard.”_ Garrus wrapped his vocals around the name. From past experience,that often had the effect of temporarily unbalancing humans. It scared some, enticed others, but all the same they were more likely to cooperate. “You have my attention.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who don't know, [Bernard Plim](http://masseffect.wikia.com/wiki/Mass_Effect_3:_Leviathan/Conspiracy_Accountability_League) is a canon character. It's been a while since I last played the Leviathan DLC so, while researching the lore, I learned about him and I just had to find a way to incorporate him somehow. I hope you all like what I have in store. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading.
> 
> Fic recommendation this week is [Mass Effect: Interregnum](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5775707/1/Mass-Effect-Interregnum) over on ff.net. This story is truly what sparked my interest to return to writing fan fiction in the first place. The Naked Pen writes Garrus masterfully and, really, is who I draw a lot of inspiration for both my take on him as well as the rare reference to my Garrus' Omega time. While Garrus is amazing in this story, it's the life that's breathed into a list of names, that we're given in the Shadow Broker DLC, that really makes this story stand out. You'll get so attached to these characters and then, when the inevitable end comes, it'll rip your heart out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by the lovely [shretl (Girlundone).](http://archiveofourown.org/users/girlundone/pseuds/shretl)  
> Note: I did edit this quite a bit after she read it so any remaining mistakes are mine. :)

Garrus has met a lot of people in his years. Eccentric ones too. Yet, he could safely say that he had never met a person who talked quite as much as Bernard Plim.

“I know some shit you wouldn't believe,” he felt the need to inform Garrus when they left the office and made their way for the nearest elevator.

“No one has actually seen Captain Anderson's birth certificate. No way that dude's from London,” was what he spouted when they piled into the said elevator.

“Believe it or not, I have _irrefutable_ proof that the Shadow Broker is a drell,” he told them next. Garrus couldn't help but glance at Liara and watch as she pretended not to hear him. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the railing.

Bernard made himself comfortable by shifting his weight back to lean against the cool metal wall. The loose fabric of his shirt shook, agitated by the vibrating surface that his back was pressed against. Garrus felt a sudden stab of trepidation that the human seemed to be settling in, as if to ready himself for a long speech. He looked every bit like a paid lecturer preparing to expatiate to a group of disinterested spectators. With an excited grin and bright, alert eyes taking in each and every one of their faces, Bernard was clearly not one to be deterred by a silent audience.

“The Leviathans are the worst kept secret in the galaxy. Everyone knows about them. Cerberus, the Council, the Alliance, the Hegemony, the Hierarchy- everyone!”

While the human chattered on, Garrus raised his omni-tool and put a call in to Zaeed. While he waited, he stared hard at the orange interface of his device, trying his damnedest to block out Bernard's irksome voice. But with each agonizing second that he had to wait, the human's voice still managed to seep in like piss through the cracks of a wooden ceiling.

“I mean, how stupid do they think we are?” He exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air for emphasis. “Just look at the letters:-” He whirled around to trace a finger along the metal wall as he spelled “-L-E-V-I-A-T-H-A-N. Nine letters!” Bernard turned back around to look at each of them as if he'd just offered vital information blessed by spirits of knowledge.

 _'C'mon, Zaeed.'_ Garrus stared desperately at his holo-screen. _'Pick up.'_

“If you minus four of those letters, you get 'Latin,' which is an ancient human language. 'Latin' has five letters. And what's five plus four?” He looked around again expectantly, but no one offered the answer he sought. “Nine! It has nine letters! Know what else has nine letters? 'Ascension,' as in _The Destiny Ascension?_ ”

More silence. Bernard threw his hands up again. “C'mon, sheeple!”

Finally, Zaeed answered with a distinguishing grunt. It just might have been the most beautiful sound Garrus had ever heard.

“What?”

He felt certain that was the politest greeting he'd ever get from the old merc.

“We're heading down to the subterranean levels,” Garrus told him. “Be on the lookout for any sudden changes out there. We might be out of contact for a while.”

“Roger that. If I see the winds blow the sand in a slightly different direction, I'll be sure to fire up the engine and send the krogan in.” Zaeed's voice dripped with scathing sarcasm. Ah, Garrus loved that man.

“A krogan?” Bernard pinned Garrus with an inquisitive gaze, desperate for answers.

To Zaeed, Garrus said, “You're a true blue prince.”

“Piss off.”

On that happy note, Garrus ended the call and, reluctantly, returned his attention to his current company: a female human and an asari dead set on ignoring the jabbering male human they were trapped with. Currently, Garrus was the center of his fascination.

“I'm beginning to suspect you guys are more than you're letting on.” He narrowed his eyes.

“What was your first clue?” Garrus countered.

“The guns, I guess. You a Spectre or something?”

“I'm not, not a Spectre.”

“So you are one.”

“Unless, of course, I'm not, not, not a Spectre, working for one, that's working for a representative of the Council that doesn't necessarily report to them or do their bidding.”

Silence. Beautiful silence filled the void for almost a full, precious minute, in which the duration was spent under the scrutinizing gaze of Bernard Plim. Alas, all good things must end.

Bernard looked away from Garrus to address the other souls unfortunate enough to be trapped with him. He recovered his momentum with, “And that Saren guy? Always knew he was dirty.”

Okay. Garrus didn't mind that statement so much, not that he would tell him.

Changing tactics, Bernard pressed, “You know, I spent some time on Omega.” The male human wheeled on Garrus once again, his gaze expectant. It took him a few seconds to realize that he was waiting for some kind of confirmation that Garrus was still listening.

“You don't say,” he relented without bothering to hide his disinterest.

"Yup.” Either Bernard didn't notice, or he simply didn't care. Garrus suspected the latter. “Even saw Archangel.” It was Liara's turn to glance at him, but Garrus kept his eyes fixed on the steel wall of the elevator. He was suddenly thankful for his disguise. The armor he had left in the car harbored the emblem of his old moniker.

“Yeah? What was he like?'

“She,” he was corrected. Garrus just stopped himself from snapping a sharp look at the irritating human. Though, he failed to prevent his mandibles from fluttering. “Female turian,” Bernard declared with all the confidence in the galaxy backing his claim. “Hell of a looker too, but she's in bed with Aria T'Loak.” After an awkward silence in which Garrus was sure he wasn't alone in hoping it would last, Bernard added with a wistful air, “Or else I'd tap the hell out of that.”

This elevator was giving the _Normandy's_ lift a sluggish run for her money in terms of slowest lift of all time.

“You know about Commander Shepard's disappearance, right?” Garrus continued to pretend he didn't exist. “The Alliance's doing, I bet. That or- and this might sound crazy, but I'm starting to think it's true- Primarch Victus. The Commander likes turians so-”

“Do you _ever_ shut up?” Garrus snapped, ignoring the _ping_ sound that signaled their arrival at the bottom floor.

The skinny human puffed up his chest and looked Garrus straight in the eye. “Never. Silence is how they control you, man.”

Bernard wouldn't have lasted a day in the turian military, he decided. Generals like Victus would have had a field day chewing him up and spitting him out. Garrus, in his youth, had learned that nugget of truth the hard way.

The doors opened to a dark, dreary cavern. Gone were the white walls, fake plants, and safety propaganda. In their place was gray stone walls and paved walkways, lined with dim green lights to barely see by. Overhead, white lights lined the ceiling, the functioning ones casting the walls in a dim glow. Many were in desperate need of maintenance as they flickered on and off, while others simply remained dark and broken.

The walkways were a true testament to how long the asari had control of Asteria because it would have taken centuries to carve out the tunnels the way they were. Water could be heard dripping in the distance, echoing off the duracrete floors. It was a sound Garrus savored, knowing he wouldn't hear it for long once Bernard started up again.

“No lights,” Garrus quietly ordered. “If anyone's home down here, I'd rather they not know we've moseyed through their front door.”

With their pistols drawn and their flashlights off, Liara and Miranda hastily exited the lift, anxious to put some distance between themselves and their new, irksome companion. Garrus was quick to follow, his own pistol drawn, with the aforementioned tag-along on his heels.

“It sure is dark down here,” was Bernard's genius observation. “Your people have night vision, right?”

Bernard spoke from behind so Garrus couldn't be sure who he was directing the question to. Obviously, it couldn't be at his fellow human so it must have been to either himself or Liara. Garrus prayed it was the latter, remaining quiet in the hopes that Liara would speak up. To his misfortune, she remained absolute in her silence,likely sharing Garrus' sentiment.

_'Fine.'_

“That's directed at me, I take it,” Garrus drawled. “Yes, but we still need some source of light like everyone else.”

“Cool, cool. Oh, something else I wanted to ask. I don't talk to many turians and... I just gotta know. Do you guys have all the same-”

Garrus' omni-tool buzzed, mercifully interrupting that line of questioning. It was Shepard. As he followed his team through the tunnels, Garrus put the call through to his earpiece. No need for Bernard to know who he was talking to.

“I finished reading the files,” she told him.

“That was fast.”

“Garrus.”

“Sorry. Did you-uh... did you tell him?”

He heard a deep exhale on her end followed by a regretful, “No.”

“Are you going to?”

“I want to, but...” Shepard trailed off, though he caught her meaning. She understood that the intel on EDI, assuming it was even worth grabbing, was not and could not be at the top of their list of priorities. Shepard was acknowledging how cruel it was to keep Joker in the dark. Yet, the thought of cluing him in just to potentially rip away any hope he had of getting EDI back wasn't any more pleasant.

Emotions and personal stakes had no place in an operation like this.

“Understood,” Garrus assured her. “I'll do my best.”

“I know. You always do.” There was a note to her tone that ignited his heart, causing his affection for the woman to suddenly surge through him. Eager to change the subject, Shepard went on. “Have you had any trouble?”

“None yet, though,apparently, we're locked in. All the more reason to find these artifacts.”

“Any sign of mercs?”

“None yet.” He tried to hide how much that bit of truth worried him. So far, the only thralls they had encountered were the harmless employees on the top floor. If there were mercs in the building, they hadn't shown themselves yet. With luck, they would be stumbling around, just as mindless as the people upstairs.

“What do you see?”

“We're closing in on the office of that doctor you read about. It's in the subterranean levels so it looks about what you'd expect: Dark, creepy cavern. Some might say ominous.”

“Sinister, even?” Garrus could hear the smile in the question.

“You get the picture.”

“Who are you talking to?” Bernard blurted at an octave far too high for the stealth Garrus was striving for. He shot an answering glare over his shoulder at the human, not caring that he probably couldn't see it.

“Your mother.” A juvenile response, he knew, but he was still feeling a little irritated at the human's previous Shepard comment.

He felt Bernard's eyes on him, probably fixing him with a glare of his own, and then, “I didn't know turians told 'yo momma' jokes.”

“Who was that?” Shepard asked him, having heard the unfamiliar voice.

“We may have picked up a straggler. I'm aware of your penchant for taking in strays. Thought I'd give it a shot.” At Shepard's resulting and, no doubt, unamused silence, Garrus reiterated with, “He has intel on the artifacts.” He threw a skeptical look over his shoulder at the said human. “Or so he claims.”

“I do, man!”

“All right.” He could hear the apprehension in her voice. “Get to it, mister. I'll keep going through these files, in case I missed something. I'll let you know if I find anything-”

Static burbled in his aural canal and then nothing.

“You there?”

She wasn't. Garrus halted to check the signal with his omni-tool and emitted a frustrated huff at the results.

“What's wrong?” Liara stopped when she heard his irritated sound.

“No signal. We're either too deep in the ground or-”

“It's being blocked,” Miranda confirmed, her own omni-tool alight on her arm. “It seems we've walked into a dampening field, the source of which appears to be coming from the end of this corridor.”

Garrus swiped his hand across his own holo-screen to see the source of the interference for himself. His omni projected the dampening field as a wide sphere, colored violet, that encompassed the sprawling web of tunnels they traversed through. At its center lay the goal of their destination: Dr. Saitō's office. A cold finger of dread slid its way up Garrus' spine as it dawned on him that her office was likely the source of the signal.

A trap then. Surprise, surprise. Garrus whirled on Bernard.

“What do you know about this dampening field?”

In the darkness, he could make out the skewed, puzzled look Bernard fixed him with.

“Dampening field?” He questioned with a voice conveying his confusion. It certainly sounded genuine enough and it wasn't like Bernard was the one to send them to Dr. Saitō's office. The location of the second artifact had yet to be shared with them and wouldn't be until after they destroyed the first. Garrus turned away from him and continued on ahead without another word.

“Hey, wait!” He heard Bernard hurry to catch up. “What dampening field?”

_'Definitely clueless.'_

It was another two minutes down the corridor, in which Bernard insisted on soothing himself by singing an Omega bar favorite- Danger Zone, when Garrus' omni-tool predictably, and regrettably, flickered out. A quick glance around revealed that the same fate had befallen his team's devices as well. From what he saw of his interface before it dissolved, they had made it to the heart of the field, which made the utilization of tech no longer a viable option. Well, at least he had two biotics with him, though he was beginning to mourn the loss of his rifle.

Bernard reached the end of the song, or at least finished as much of the lyrics as he knew, and started over. “Revvin' up your engine. Listen to her howlin' roar. Metal under tension. Beggin' you to touch and go- You know? I think that song's about fucking.”

It occurred to him: _'I think he's right.'_

A door could be seen ahead and to their left, softly lit by a white, flickering light mounted on the opposite wall. As much as Garrus wanted to turn back from the very obvious trap, he knew they had no choice but to press on. When they finally approached the door, he noticed a bronze plate with the name, **Dr. Akari Saitō** engraved on it. The letters flickered in and out ominously in the din.

“Ride into the danger zone.” Bernard stopped to cast a withering look at the door. He then opened his mouth to give voice to some inane comment, likely at how creepy the atmosphere was. Or, so Garrus guessed, because all that came out was a string of incomprehensible words he couldn't understand.

Garrus rounded on him. “What?”

Bernard jumped at the sound of his voice and stared at him wildly before uttering another mishmash of garbled sounds.

 _'Oh crap.'_ It would seem that the field had not only knocked out their omni-tools, but their translators as well. His was implanted in his head, as was Liara's and Miranda's, but even theirs weren't immune to the effects of the interference if the bewildered looks they gave him were anything to go by. At the back of his mind, Garrus briefly entertained the thought of what his speech must sound like to them.

Liara tried to say something, but Garrus was just as successful at deciphering her speech as he was with Bernard's. They then looked to Miranda and watched, with a small amount of humor, as a look of regret crossed her face when she realized she was now the only one that could communicate with their annoying escort.

Comprehension must have registered with Bernard as he leaned into Miranda's space and spewed another string of words at her. Much to Miranda's obvious chagrin, they must speak the same human language and Bernard undoubtedly used it to say something she didn't like. Garrus could almost _hear_ her resulting eye-roll.

Thankfully -or unfortunately, given Garrus' suspicions- the door opened, without resistance, into an almost pitch-black room. The flickering light from outside would be their only source of illumination. Garrus flicked the light on his pistol before carefully stepping inside and began scanning the walls and floors for any sensors or tripwires. Without the use of his omni, it would be a manual search that needed to be conducted with a naked eye. Fortunately, his weren't the only trained eyes on the scene as Miranda and Liara followed suit, using the glow of their biotics around their hands as a light with which to see by.

Bernard would have moved to follow them in if Garrus hadn't grabbed both his shoulders and all but _placed_ him just outside the door. He then pinned the human with a pointed look, hoping his meaning would come through as a universal translation- _Stay here and don't touch anything._ By then, anxiousness bloomed on Bernard's face. The way his head swiveled side to side to take in the near-black corridors around him, suggested he understood.

Garrus stepped away from him and resumed his search, checking every now and then to make sure he followed directions. For the most part, he did, moving only to shift his weight awkwardly from foot to foot and ask the occasional question that was ultimately _-'And mercifully'-_ lost in translation. Sometimes Miranda would respond to him, but for the most part, Bernard went ignored as she focused on the task at hand. He continued to soothe himself with his apparent ear worm and, though Garrus could no longer understand the lyrics, the tune of Danger Zone remained the same.

Satisfied with the safety of the perimeter, Garrus made his way to the only desk in the otherwise empty room. As he placed his hand on the first drawer, memories of Erash came to him. He saw flickers of the salarian's mischievous smile as a small, but potent shrapnel bomb was lovingly placed in a desk drawer, wired to explode and cripple the next unfortunate merc to open it. A lot of Blue Suns lots many limbs to that salarian's tactics.

“ _Hope those sons of bitches have the creds for good prosthetics,” Erash hissed gleefully._

Garrus blinked hard, willing the memories of vulgar expletives and laughter away from him, and gently pulled the drawer open. He focused hard in order to detect the slightest tension of a pulled wire or perhaps the _whirring_ beep of an explosive just before going off, but as he dragged the drawer toward him, it opened empty. He repeated the process with two more below the first until he came to the fourth drawer, located in the top right of the desk.

Garrus stopped when the drawer opened and his eyes fell on a button atop a gray plastic pad, screwed into the bottom of the drawer. With the severe interference coming from the room, the button had to have a ground wire in order to properly function. The said ground wire likely ran down through the desk, under the tile to... where?

He signaled Liara and Miranda to him and pointed out, with his lit sidearm, the button. He then drew the stream of light down the front of the desk and sent it dancing a line along the tile, hoping they'd understand. The human and asari glanced at each other, which caused Garrus to long for Shepard's presence once again. If she were there, she would understand him with or without the use of a translator. Human and turian vocal cords were far too different to speak the others languages, but between Garrus and Shepard, verbal words only played a small part in their communication.

Garrus endeavored to hide his frustration as he stooped beside the desk and pried his talons behind it to pull it away from the wall. His frustration grew when he was met with resistance, which made him glance to the feet of the desk and discover that it was bolted down into the tile. Now, he could definitely rip the desk off the bolts, but doing so could put tension on the cord he was trying to find, rendering it useless at best or potentially explosive at worse.

Liara followed Garrus' gaze to the bolts and finally understood. She raised a hand and the bolts suddenly blossomed in a blue light of dark energy before they simultaneously spun and loosened their grip on the floor. Once pulled away, Garrus carefully pulled the desk from the wall just far enough to peek behind it and spot the suspected wire. It was fastened in place to the back of the desk by metal brackets, but its trail could be traced down to the tiled floor where it disappeared through a hole. The direction the wire took after that was indeterminable, but his biotics had crowded around him for a look themselves.

Miranda placed a hand on his shoulder and applied a small amount of pressure. _Move away,_ it said and he obliged, crawling away from the biotics before unraveling his body as he stood from the floor. Liara moved to one side of the desk as Miranda took up post at the other. Then both their five-fingered hands glowed blue just before the closest tile, on either side of the desk, separated from the others and was lifted from the floor. There, on Miranda's side, the concealed wire became visible.

Liara abandoned her side of the desk to join Miranda as the two biotics lifted the remaining tiles, following the line of the wire as it snaked along the floor, curving around pipes and axles. The removed tiles flew across the room to settle in a neat pile in the far corner, should they need to be replaced again in order to maintain the secrecy of their presence. At last, the hidden wire was made completely visible, revealing its destination in the wall to the right of the room's entrance.

 _"Child's play,"_ Sensat would say.

Bernard's song devolved into a nervous hum. Garrus could feel his eyes on his back.

With a closed fist, Garrus knocked on the wall to test the sound. As he expected - _'and hoped'_ -, he was met with the hollow _thunk_ of a fake wall. His talons traced along the surface, finding the slight cracks that were invisible in the dark, separating the fake wall from the real one. Finally,confident that the button wouldn't kill him, Garrus approached the desk once again and pressed it. Sure enough, the base of the fake wall slowly swung towards them and then lifted itself to the ceiling, revealing a small alcove barely wide or tall enough for him to stand in.

Waiting on the other side, their eyes fell on their prize. It was a perfect sphere, stabilized by tapered, needle-point protrusions of metal that pinned it in place by both the top and bottom of the artifact. The surface moved and rippled like water, reflecting the flickering light that shone in from the open door. And, beside it, laid the long dead remains of a female human. Skin still clung to her gaunt face, but it was wilted and decayed. She was dressed in a white lab coat with a gold-plated name tag pinned to her breast.

 _'Dr. Saitō,'_ his mind supplied.

Her body was seated, back against the wall with her head turned and her chin resting on her shoulder. Her sunken, withered eyes eternally rested on the sphere she died beside. If the ominous datapad logs he and Shepard found on Desponia were any indicator, starvation was the likely cause of the doctor's death. A chill ran up his spine as he recalled the ending of the last one they found, 'It's so good not being hungry anymore.'

It was then Garrus noticed the deafening silence that had befallen the room with no lingering trace of any song or hum to be heard. For the first time since meeting him, Bernard had gone quiet. An icy stone fell to the pit of Garrus' stomach. He tore his eyes from the artifact and looked to the doorway to find Bernard still standing there, but something wasn't right. He was no longer fidgeting nervously. He just stood there, staring back at them, a black figure that blended in with the dark room and flickered in and out of existence in time with the faulty light that silhouetted him.

“ _You know about Commander Shepard's disappearance, right? The Alliance's doing, I bet. That or- and this might sound crazy, but I'm starting to think it's true- Primarch Victus. The Commander likes turians so-”_

Garrus stared at him.

“ _You know about Commander Shepard's disappearance, right? The Alliance's doing, I bet. That or Primarch Victus.”_

Garrus remembered the scientists on Mahavid after they were released from the artifact's grip. When Shepard asked them what year it was, they blinked and looked at her like she was the one who was crazy, and answered, '2176.'

“ _You know about Commander Shepard's disappearance, right?”_

Shepard's reappearance has been all over the news for months.

“ _Primarch Victus.”_

And the current state of the reformed Council, with Adrien as the new turian Councilor, was common knowledge. Yet, he was unaware that Shepard had been found. He was unaware that Adrien Victus was no longer the Primarch of Palaven. Granted, turian politics was never something most humans take the time to look into, but Adrien's actions during the Reaper war had carved the Victus name into the recollection of most survivors. He was anything but unknown.

Barnard said he'd only been in the mine for three weeks, but what if it was more along the lines of over a year?

Garrus wanted to kick himself. Maybe he would have picked up on all that if he hadn't been so dead set on tuning him out.

“Bernard?” He knew the name would sound garbled without working translators, but he had to hope it would still get his attention. It did. Bernard's widened eyes snapped to Garrus. He could see red veins lining the white surface of his eyeballs. The flickering light showcased them intermittently.

“YOU'RE NOT THE ONE,” Bernard boomed in a voice far deeper than Garrus had heard from him. It was a menacing rumble beyond the capabilities of any organism he had ever heard, let alone from human vocals. It was almost like it was voiced in his own head. More unsettling still; Garrus understood him.

Garrus raised his pistol and whipped around to point it at the artifact. Just as his finger tightened on the trigger, Bernard shouted, “YOU'RE NOT THE OOOONE!”

The words themselves seemed to vibrate within his skull and Garrus found himself struggling not to flinch at the sensation. Then the artifact exploded at the impact of his bullet.

Liara and Miranda hastened to cover their eyes and quickly stepped away from the shower of shrapnel that rained down upon them. He then turned in time to witness Bernard collapse to the floor. Garrus hurried to him, turning him over to see that he was still alive, but white as a sheet and shivering in his hands.

Then Liara was next to him, standing over them with her arms stretched out to the sides. A blue, biotic field emitted from her open palms, spreading just wide enough to encompass the three of them. Miranda, however, did not join them. She stood in the middle of the room, arms also outstretched and her hair flying with the force of the crackling biotic energy she was conjuring. It was then Garrus understood that, despite the lack of translators, Liara and Miranda had quickly worked out a plan between them. Liara would provide a shield while Miranda-

Garrus was knocked back by the force of the opposing biotic fields colliding against each other. He had just enough sense of mind to hope the explosion wouldn't bring the tunnel down on them. The next thing he knew, he was blinking through a cloud of dust and everything in the room was destroyed. The desk was in shambles, the neatly stacked tiles had shattered in all directions, the walls stood precariously with holes blown into them, and bits and pieces of Dr. Saitō littered the floor and walls in a grisly display.

“Are you all right?” Garrus heard, and comprehended, Liara asking him.

Where ever the jamming signal was, Miranda had just destroyed it. Garrus raised his wrist to test his omni-tool and felt relief at seeing it fire right up. He then turned his attention back to the stricken Bernard Plim. His close proximity to the floor at the time of the explosion had prevented him from moving far.

“Bernard?” He gave the male human a light shake. “You okay?”

Bernard still looked white and he shook like a leaf. He looked at Garrus with wide, terrified eyes. His self-assured demeanor was broken.

“I'm cold,” he whispered hoarsely. “I'm so cold.”

“Yeah,” Garrus nodded solemnly. “That's what happens.”

“W-when what h-happens?” He asked through trembling lips.

“When Leviathan takes control.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [shretl (Girlundone)](http://archiveofourown.org/users/girlundone/pseuds/shretl)  
> for her ever helpful beta work. <3
> 
> Apologies (again) for the delayed posting. This chapter was a bit tricky for me to write, so I hope it's enjoyable for everyone. :)

'You're not the one.' That was what Bernard shouted. That was what beat against the inside of Garrus' skull as he crouched beside the trembling human. Bernard looked at him with questions that Garrus had few answers for. He was too angry to even try.

He may not be 'the one,' but he had a sneaking suspicion who was.

“Ow,” Bernard whimpered. “Let go, man!”

Garrus felt the human wrest his shoulder from his increasingly tight grip. Liara placed a gentle hand on the back of his cowl, which meant she was drawing similar conclusions. But Garrus wanted none of it.

“What year was it?” Even Garrus didn't recognize his own tone, frozen over by ice as it was.

“W-what?”

“When you came down here, what year was it?”

“Was?”

Garrus didn't have time for this. For all Bernard's talk and bravado, he was irritatingly silent now. Garrus wanted to seize him by the front of his shirt and shake the answers out of him because he was too angry to have a conversation with him. Still, he had to rein in his frustration. Bernard was terrified and Garrus knew that unleashing his anger on him would hardly help matters.

Garrus' nose twitched as he drew a deep breath and exhaled through it. Crouched on the floor as he was, he had no choice but to revert back to his old C-Sec persona, sat at a table across from a suspect. If he wanted answers, an interrogation was in order. He currently lacked his 'good cop' in Shepard, so he would have to make due playing both roles.

“The current year is 2189,” he revealed to the one in thrall.“Two years after the fall of the Reapers, seven months since Adrien Victus abdicated his title as Primarch and assumed the one of Councilor. Seven again since Commander Shepard was recovered alive.”

Bernard looked at him, stunned into silence, but Garrus could see the gears working behind his eyes.

“I need an answer, Bernard,” Garrus prompted.

“2188,” he replied feebly.

“I thought so.” Garrus nodded. “You traveled here when the relays opened, right?”

“Yeah...” Bernard trailed off to allow himself a deep breath and slowly sat up.

“Think.” Garrus leaned forward and pinned Bernard with the kind of look that had earned him more than a few confessions in the past. “Try to remember.”

“I... I hacked into LCMF accounts while off world and found some things that sounded a lot like what I read in the Alliance's account. I came here for proof. Then I got inside and found all the staff- well, you saw them.” A dark grimace shadowed Bernard's face. “I freaked, man. I tried to get out, but I couldn't. Thankfully the cafeteria here is fully stocked. I...” Bernard stopped again to massage his temples. Garrus waited. “I locked myself into the office next to the one I found you in. That's where I spent most of my time, trying to get messages out for help and learning all that I could of what was going on here. I was sitting at that desk when I heard your voices coming from the office next door.”

“That's when you woke up,” Liara informed him, her tone as gentle and sympathetic as ever.

“That's when they _allowed_ you to wake up,” Garrus corrected.

“But I never saw the artifacts until now!” Bernard defended. “I never came down here. I was... I was too scared to.”

“It doesn't matter.” Garrus dropped his tone to the most comforting octave he could manage, given his stormy mood. “From what we know already, you don't necessarily have to come into contact with the artifacts to succumb to them. Simply being nearby is all it takes. You were upstairs so it took a few weeks- three from what I'm gathering, and if we don't get out of here soon, it'll happen to us, too.”

“I don't get it. If it had control over me, how am I alive? Why haven't I starved to death like that doctor?”

“The Leviathans are parasites and parasites gain nothing by killing their hosts too quickly. They had a job for you. It was to lure us down here and trap us.”

 _'You're not the one.'_ Garrus closed his hand into a fist.

“No, I didn't!” Bernard panicked. “I-I wouldn't. I just want to get out of here, man. I...” Bernard looked away from him, his eyes fixing on the ground between his knees, frowning. Garrus pretended not to hear the sound of a covert sniffle. “I just want to go home.”

“Then tell us where the other artifact is.” He said it like an order, pulling from every thread of authority he could and laced it into his tone. Garrus then raised the outline of the subterranean tunnels on his resurrected omni-tool. “The sooner we destroy it, the sooner we can all go home.”

Bernard remained huddled with his eyes on the floor. He wiped at his nose briskly before he met Garrus with a reproachful gaze. They shined, Garrus noticed, the way human eyes do when tears are present. “Y-you promise not to leave me here if I tell you?”

Bernard was infuriatingly annoying, but Garrus couldn't fault him too much,especially in that moment. He wasn't a fighter. He was scared and feeble, but came here anyway in search of answers. He wanted to help people and clearly didn't care what others thought of him or his methods indoing so. He came here because he thought it was the right thing to do. No one else was going to. No one else cared. And he paid a high price for it.

Spirits, did that sound familiar.

Suppressing his dislike for the human, Garrus extended a hand. “You have my word.”

Bernard glanced warily at the three-finger hand. Then, hesitantly, he grabbed it and gave it a firm shake. Well, as firm as Garrus was sure he could muster.

“Yeah. Okay.” He reached for the holo-map above Garrus' wrist and selected a room located on the outskirts of the subterranean tunnel. “Here. According to numerous files I found, the second artifact should be here. They dug it up shortly before the Reapers attacked so Dr. Saitō never had the chance to move it to her office.”

“Good. We'll head there after we get you back on the elevator.”

“What?” Bernard shot him an alarmed look. “No. This is _my_ case. This is what I've been looking into for years. I'm not just going to walk away.”

“Yes,” Garrus snapped. “You are going to walk away because you're a liability now. Leviathan can take control of you whenever it wants and I don't want you anywhere near me if and _when_ that happens again.”

“But-”

“Bernard, they can watch us through your eyes at any time,” Liara explained, stepping in the way of Garrus' harsh voice with her considerate one.

“They obviously know you're here!”

“True,” Miranda interjected from the other end of the room, arms crossed as she quietly observed them. “But as long as we remain subtle, we haven't completely lost our element of surprise.”

Bernard looked like he wanted to protest further, but as he met the triple stares of his opposition, his resolve ebbed. “Fine.”

 

* * *

 

The trip back to the elevator was a surprisingly silent one, especially in contrast to their previous trip leaving it. Bernard was so quiet that Garrus constantly felt the need to glance behind him to make sure he was still himself.

“You can quit checking up on me, birdy,” Bernard eventually snapped, annoyed by the furtive glances that were constantly shot his way. “I'm fine.”

Garrus sincerely doubted that. How could anyone be 'fine' after learning they'd missed a whole year of their life? That their mind wasn't their own anymore? That their consciousness and free willwas only _allowed_ by another and that, at any moment, it could be ripped away. If the queen of the hive called, the workers would respond and Bernard was one of them now.

“Oh no.”

Liara's voice tugged Garrus' attention away from Bernard. He scanned over the heads of both Liara and Miranda to spot the source of her alarm. The elevator stood with the doors wide open, revealing that the control panel against the back was damaged, shooting sparks into the air like blood from an injured animal.

Garrus slowed to a stop. It had been tampered with.

“Spread out and find a repair drone,” he instructed as he drew his sidearm and began to look for their saboteur. He knew that no facility like this would go without several of those on hand. After all, it was far cheaper to have machines readily available than pay a mechanic to keep up with the absurd amount of day-to-day maintenance a place like this would require.

As he patrolled the perimeter, he could hear Liara and Miranda moving around him. Even Bernard seized the opportunity to help where he could by joining in their search. Garrus could tell because his clumsy footfalls stood out obnoxiously from Miranda and Liara's. Flashes of orange from their omni-tools would ignite in his peripheral vision as they scanned every panel, crate, and container they could find. Thankfully, their movements were the only sounds he could hear.

 _'For now.'_ He was ever the optimist.

“Aha.” Garrus turned toward Miranda's triumphant voice. From all his past experience with humans, he'd long since learned that good news typically followed 'aha.' “Over here.”

Behind a panel, built into the stone wall, lay what appeared to be a fully functioning repair drone. Garrus ran a quick scan with his omni and flicked his mandibles into a pleased grin. Maybe their luck was beginning to turn for the better. After tapping a few commands into his 'tool, he raised his sidearm and turned to stare out into the darkness while the drone internally ran its factory-set diagnostics after sitting idle for so long. Miranda and Liara followed his lead by readying their biotics.

Bernard, on the other hand, stood dumbfounded. It seemed like he couldn't decide on who to direct his quizzical look to. “What's up? I didn't hear anything.”

“Neither did I,” Garrus told him. The drone whirred to life, a blue light appearingto pierce the darkness, and floated away from its place of slumber.

“So what gives?” Bernard's eyes flickered between Garrus and the darkness ahead of them.

“We have to stay near the drone for it to complete its repair,” Liara told him simply.

“And?” He countered.

“And,” Garrus spared him sideways glance. “Nothing good ever follows after that. You might want to get behind us.”

“Don't you think that's a little...”

Bernard trailed off as a loud echoing sound, like a large platoon rising to greet the day, met their ears. Boots thundered and the metal of guns scraped against armor-plated gloves.

The hive had awakened.

“Get in the elevator,” Garrus ordered and raised his omni-tool to quickly put a call in to Zaeed. “Send in the krogan. And if he's feeling generous, send my rifle with him.”

He heard what must have been the beginnings of a celebratory crow from the krogan in question before he cut the line and readied himself. That's when it dawned on him that Bernard had not moved to follow his order or respond in any way.

Garrus didn't have to look to know the reason. Bernard was a part of the awakened hive, after all. His suspicions were quickly confirmed when the human mindlessly launched at him, hands raised to claw at Garrus' eyes and mandibles, but the turian was quicker. He sent a swift kick into the human's squishy stomach, hearing the resultant sharp exhale as his strike knocked the air clean from Bernard before sending him toppling backwards to the ground. But, like the meat shield he'd become, he was not deterred as he rose to his feet and attacked him again.

Footfalls echoed louder all around them now.

Biotics enveloped Bernard -Garrus couldn't be bothered to check from whom- and sent him flying sideways, slamming his back into the far wall of the lift. A stasis field ignited around him, pinning him to the spot, but it didn't stop him from emitting a murderous scream.

Garrus quickly checked the repair percentage on his omni-tool. They were sitting at seventy percent complete.

 _'C'mon, c'mon,'_ he chanted internally. The sooner the lift was finished, the sooner they could get Bernard out of danger and they could leave this place and continue on to find the other artifact. And, of course, kill a few mercs along the way.

“YOU'RE NOT THE ONE!” The inhuman voice boomed from inside the elevator. It rung in Garrus' head and sparked his anger like flint to tinder.

Soft fingers dancing along his keel, gold and copper strands clinging to his mandible, and eyes shining with laughter. No one would use her again. Of that, Garrus vowed to make sure of.

“Yeah?” He kept his eyes trained on the darkness. “Well I'm the one you're dealing with.”

Movement. He squeezed the trigger and heard the sound of a body hitting the ground. A gun clattered against the duracrete floor.

“Repair. Complete,” said a robotic voice from behind. “Lift. Is. Fully. Functional.” The drone zipped into Garrus' sight to hover in place as it asked, “Can. This. Unit. Assist. Further?”

He suddenly wished for Tali's presence. If she were there, she could probably re-wire the drone and turn it into a damn missile launcher.

“No.” Garrus ignored Bernard's enraged howl when he hastily reached inside the elevator and slammed his hand against the button for the top floor. The elevator quickly cycled shut, but not fast enough to obscure the sight of Bernard rushing for Garrus the instant the stasis field fell. He only managed to crash his body into the metal and Garrus could hear his fists pound away as he was taken up and away from them.

More footsteps. As much as Garrus wanted to stay and wait for Grunt, they had to move. Their position made them sitting targets and Grunt should have little problem getting past the unarmed civilians upstairs. Even if Bernard came back down, and Garrus was certain he would, they'd be long gone into the tunnels. That was another reason why they needed to distance themselves from the lift, the further they were from Bernard, the further he'd be from the violence. It was his only chance if Garrus was going to be successful at getting him out of this place alive.

A pained wail echoed from the tunnel when its advancing source was torn asunder by a biotic attack.

“We need to move,” Garrus said, already in motion, knowing his team would follow him. “We'll rendezvous with Grunt later.”

Footsteps boomed above and below them like thunder rolling over an open plain. The hive was in a frenzy and they were in the middle of it. By the way the feet sounded like they were closing in, Garrus knew that stealth was no longer a viable option. They were all coming right for them.

It wasn't long until they encountered their first group of mercs. Five batarians, clad in the cobalt and white hardsuits of the Blue Suns, came hurtling around a far corner. Garrus noted that, like Bernard, they paid no mind to their own safety as they barreled towards them. The Leviathan had no need to preserve its meat shields when it had so many at its disposal.

Neon flashes from the lit points of their armor bounced in the dark in time with the batarians' hurried steps. The faulty, flickering lights that lined the ceiling provided sporadic illumination to the ten sets of black eyes as they zeroed in on Garrus and his team. Pointed teeth gleamed like pearls as they were bared in a savage snarl.

Three of the batarians- the ones that were armed, halted their charge to raise their weapons and take aim. However, before they could get a single shot off, they were promptly warped and sent flying by Garrus' two biotic partners. In the same instant, the two without guns mindlessly rushed Garrus with no thought to their own safety even as theircompanions were ripped in two behind them.

In such close quarters, using his pistol would be a waste of bullets. It looked like he was going to have to get his hands dirty. Garrus smiled just before he swiftly dodged the first hand to swipe at him and then used his considerable reach to seize the merc by the back of his neck and slam his face into the stone wall. The merc's shields flared up on the first impact, but fizzled by the second.

Garrus barely had time to release the broken batarian before he felt the weight of the Blue Sun's partner upon him, climbing up his back to claw at his fringe and face. One sickening crunch later found Garrus with his back pressed against the wall behind him, crushing the merc between himself and the unforgiving stone. He then reached over his shoulder, grabbed the merc by his armor- ignoring the bites he received to his wrists- and dragged the batarian over his shoulder, throwing him bodily to the ground. Garrus' omni-blade flared to life and he sent it between the middle of all four eyes. The merc fell still.

They continued on, but only managed a few minutes before they met their next assault. The group -more Blue Sun members- were soundly dispatched much the same as the first. Liara and Miranda would target any armed assailants from afar, tearing them apart before they could fire a single shot while Garrus handled the melee fighters.

His attackers were mindless. They likely had no idea what they were doing. If they did, they would at least utilize some form of basic combat tactics. Garrus had fought more than enough Blue Suns to know that. With every neck snapped and skull cracked, it was like putting down rabid animals. A part of his mind told him that he should feel remorse. At the very least, some shred of pity for the poor bastards. He felt nothing.

Fighting mercs, particularly those who bore the emblems of Blue Suns, Blood Pack, and Eclipse, had a funny way of stirring unpleasant memories for him. Every turian fringe he'd snapped against the wall wore Warden Kuril's ruthless face. Every set of batarian eyes he jammed his fingers into reminded him of Tarak and the rest of his ilk. Every human skull that cracked after suffering a collision with his hard crest wore the same obnoxious sneer as Jedore. He reveled in their screams of terror as he bestowed upon them the very same mercy they had demonstrated to his lost men.

Garrus could still picture the grotesque rainbow their blood had painted all over Archangel's hideout. The smell-

“Garrus.” He was in the middle of crushing the windpipe of a human Sun, holding her suspended above the ground when Liara's voice dragged him to the present. The woman's face had turned almost as blue as the asari that was currently leveling him with a worried look.

Wounds scarred, but some of the worst ones remained eternally raw.

“Sorry,” he muttered and released the human's neck. Her body slipped to the ground with a heavy thud where she remained as Garrus turned and continued his way down the corridor.

Later, while he was standing on the throat of one flailing batarian while his omni-blade was firmly planted in the eye of another, his omni-tool buzzed. The vibration disturbed the pooled eye fluid and sent it trickling rapidly down his wrist like congealed gravy. With disgust, Garrus yanked his blade from his assailant's head and glanced at the multi-colored, bloodstained interface. It was Shepard.

He quickly snapped the neck of the quarry beneath him before he took the call. Unfortunately, a large turian Sun took the opportunity to launch himself at his back. The weight of the other male sent Garrus staggering into the wall with a vicious crack as his keel harshly met the stone.

“Little busy here, Shepard,” he grunted, ignoring the feeling of talons ripping at his cowl and neck. “Hold on.”

Garrus stomped his foot down on the other turian's spur, which gave him the opportunity to step away from the wall, but the other male continued to hold fast to his back. Then, just as quickly, he was gone, torn from Garrus with the help of a well-placed biotic throw.

“Ok,” he breathed into his omni, but he would discover that he spoke too soon. Another Sun- a human this time- took the place of his turian companion, throwing himself at Garrus' back. Thankfully, Garrus now had enough space between himself and the wall to flip forward and pin the human between himself and the floor, effectively trapping him between a rock and a hard place. He almost laughed at the thought, a part of him longing for Shepard. She'd have gotten a kick out of that. Instead, Garrus utilized a kip-up, which disentangled him from the human's limbs before stomping hard on the Sun's head. It split not unlike the melons he and Shepard occasionally enjoyed shooting together.

“Sorry,” he panted.

“Sounds like I caught you at a bad time.”

“You? Never. Just business as usual.”

“You found the mercs, huh?” She asked rhetorically.

“Actually, they found us. They came out of the woodwork as soon as I fired up a repair drone.”

“ _Every_ time.” Upon hearing the humor in her tone Garrus couldn't help but flick a mandible into a grin. It was a defense mechanism, he knew. She had her own nerves she was trying to quell, but it was still nice to hear. He already felt himself calming at her voice. It was a strange power she had over him. “Anyway, I found something else in those files.”

“Do tell.”

“Well, contrary to what was written in Dr. Saitō's file, LCMF was _definitely_ working on AI research.”

“Shocker,” Garrus replied dryly. Another turian Sun took that moment to run at him, snarling like a rabid beast. Garrus dodged his swiping talons, dipped to the floor and kicked his legs out from underneath him.

Shepard waited until she heard the gunshot leave Garrus' sidearm before continuing. “I know. It was all encrypted, but I was able to work it out.”

“I see Tali taught you a few things.”

“Hey, I know some coding,” she retorted defensively. “You don't get far as an infiltrator in N school without learning a thing or two.” Then, sheepishly, she added, “And, yeah, she did. Anyway, LCMF was really careful.”

“How careful?”

“Careful enough to not store any incriminating evidence on any of their systems, lest they get audited. All the information is stored on a chip. Every time it's used, the computer is wiped clean, but the information is stored on a physical copy.”

“I'd hate to be the employee that loses that.”

He could almost hear Shepard's smile when she said, “Yeah. They thought of that. There's a code for it, Garrus. I missed it at first because it just looks like corrupted data, but it's not. If you find a computer, you can run the cipher through a program, then upload the program to your omni-tool. You should be able to find the chip.”

 _'And, hopefully, restore EDI.'_ Garrus knew those were Shepard's unsaid words.

“Assuming it's still in the building,” Garrus pointed.

“It should be and if it's not, it's a pretty advanced program. The code will allow them to track it even outside. No way were they going to let something that valuable- not to mention, _illegal_ \- get stolen from them.”

“Noted.” Garrus glanced at his ground team and found them looking just as tired and weary as he felt. It had been a long night and it was about to get longer. “We could use a break anyway. I'll find an office and radio Grunt. He can meet us there. I think we've cleared enough of a pathway for him.”

Shepard made a disapproving _tsk_ sound. “He'll be so disappointed to hear that.”

“Don't worry, Shepard. There's plenty more to go around.” Garrus peered down the corridor that he and his team had fought through, now smeared, floor to ceiling, in blood. “He should have no problem finding us. All he has to do is follow the corpses.”

“Standard procedure, then.”

 

* * *

 

 

Deciding that they had put enough distance between themselves and the lift, and by proxy, Bernard, Garrus ducked into the nearest empty office to wait for Grunt.

The room was almost identical to that of Dr. Saitō's, with the exceptions of some old photos of a long-forgotten family placed lovingly on a dusty desk and a rather disturbing-looking stuffed animal -some kind of cartoonish Earth creature- that watched all who entered from the corner it had been hung in. Predictably, Liara made her way to the lone desk in the room and sat down in front of the terminal. Miranda sunk onto anunkept couch and began to rub the base of her neck, wincing as her fingers massaged the amp implanted there.

Shepard had forwarded the code to him and he, in turn, sent it to Liara. Positioned in front of the terminal with secrets laying in wait, the Shadow Broker got to work on what she did best. Garrus left her to it and took up post at the door, remaining out of sight to anyone who might glance down the hallways, but he made sure he could watch all directions.

He was tempted to sit down and rest as well, but keeping watch provided a welcome distraction from the pain caused by not only his most recent injuries- mercs that got some lucky shots in, but from the old one he'd sustained on his leg years ago.

It was a reminder of what he'd almost lost. Again. Normally, it didn't bother him too much. Really, he hesitated to call it a hindrance. But every now and again, after he ran too hard on it- over-strained the muscle, the old pain would flare up and his limp would return. The last time it had happened was after the night he got Shepard out of that hospital on Earth. The time before that was after he had gone on those hunting trips with his father and, before him, Victus.

Garrus inconspicuously shifted his weight onto his good leg, hoping his companions wouldn't noticed. It wasn't something he wanted to draw attention to.

The quiet of the room was only interrupted by the sound of Liara's fingers as they tapped against the terminal interface. After several minutes of silence, Garrus' nerves fired up when he heard the sound of heavy footsteps lumbering down the corridor. Sure enough, it was only Grunt. Garrus waved him into the office and was surprised when Grunt took position across from him to help him guard the door.

“I brought your rifle.” Grunt reached behind his back to extract the coveted Widow from its holster and handed it to Garrus.

“I hope she wasn't any trouble,” Garrus quipped as he took the offered rifle with a certain level of reverence even he couldn't deny.

“It worked!” Liara declared from her seat.

Garrus nodded at Grunt, a silent order to hold his post while he investigated Liara's find.

“The code?” He asked, peering over her shoulder to get a look at the screen.

“Yes.” She pointed at a flickering neon-green square. Her finger tracked it across the screen as it moved, quickly, through the map of the subterranean tunnels.

“Whoever has it is in quite the hurry,” Garrus observed. “Let's go.”

It was likely a merc who had stolen it while he or she still had possession of his mind and actions. If they didn't waste any time, they could catch the thief, find the remaining artifact, smash it, and be back on the _Normandy_ before breakfast. Garrus downloaded the program from the computer to his omni-tool and, after he a ran quick test to make sure it worked,stepped away from the desk and made for the exit. He heard Liara roll the chair back and then, all at once, went motionless. He didn't have to turn around to know that something had gone horribly wrong.

“Garrus-” She began, but was interrupted by the overly cheerful asari V.I's voice as it reverberated from speakers mounted in the walls.

“ _Attention LCMF staff,”_ the bubbly voice echoed around them, through the office door and down the hallways. _“Self-destruct protocol has been enacted. Please vacate the premises. For your safety, we at LCMF provide fifteen minutes to evacuate. Thank you for your continued cooperation and have a nice day! Repeating.”_

_'Shit.'_

Liara looked up at him with wide eyes. “Garrus, I swear I didn't-”

“I know you didn't. _It_ did.”

Garrus couldn't say he was even surprised that this hellhole of a facility even had a self-destruct protocol. Let alone the fact that, as a mine, it undoubtedly harbored explosives for clearing tunnels, but it was also located right on the exterior of the Terminus Systems. Businesses outside Council Space were notorious for operating with less than ethical procedures. If they had secrets to hide- and they all did- they needed a way to cover them up and quickly.

“It's the chip or the artifact,” stated Miranda. She rose from the couch, pistol in hand, and hurried to join Grunt at the door.

Of course it was and they didn't have time to sit there and debate. Remembering the old datapads on Mahavid, he knew the enthralled would rush to protect the final artifact just as they did when one of their crew tried to throw one over the marooned ship. As he recalled, the culprit was beaten to death. They would stop at nothing to get it out before the facility came down on top of it. Garrus couldn't allow that. Destroying the artifact was integral to the mission. Not the chip. Not EDI. And still-

“Miranda, Grunt, you two track the artifact down, smash it, and get out. Expect a lot of resistance to get to it. Kill any merc that gets in your way. Liara,” he whirled on his most powerful biotic. Unbidden, an old memory of words exchanged in the SR-1 cargo bay flitted through his mind. _'If the people I'm sworn to protect can't trust me, then I don't deserve to be the one protecting them.'_ “I need you on the top floor to safeguard the civilians. When the artifact is destroyed, they'll be confused, but try to get them outside and away. If you can't, I need you there to shield as many as you can from the blast.”

“Wait, what about you?” He heard Liara call out to him, but he was already bolting for the door and he didn't stop to answer. His vision blurred at the edges and his impaired leg burned as he pushed himself to catch the blinking green square. With any luck, it wouldn't be a turian that had it. He could run down anything else.

Blue Suns rushed around the corner, but they were swiftly lifted and swept aside by a biotic pull from somewhere behind. Probably Miranda's doing, but he couldn't stop to check. She and Grunt likely chose the same corridor he did in order to reach the office the second artifact was held in. They would split off soon.

Garrus did his best to hurry past any opposition he encountered. Of course, he couldn't avoid all of them and eventually he stopped receiving biotic help as Miranda and Grunt were forced to go a different direction. It didn't matter. As long as he was fast enough, he should be able to make it. It helped not being weighed down by his armor. Of course, a little luck wouldn't hurt either.

Garrus glanced at his omni, relieved to see that he was rapidly closing in on the blinking dot that indicated his foe. So definitely not a turian. Maybe his fortune was finally starting to take an upward turn.

Thirteen minutes left.

He sped down corridor after corridor until one spat him out into a large, open room that was damn-near pitch-black. It was then he realized how accustomed he had become to the presence of the walls pressing in on him because an immediate agoraphobic feeling seized his heart. He was right out in the open, which only served to push him harder toward his goal. After all, it was far more difficult to hit a moving target.

White lights flickered around him as they had done throughout his trek through the tunnels. During one sporadic flash, a shock of green caught his eye ahead of him and it was almost enough to bring him to a stop.

_'No.'_

Garrus checked his omni. The flashing dot was racing just ahead of him, perpendicular from where he was moving. He quickly glanced up at the metal walkway suspended above and ahead of him, his eyes tracking where the representation of the neon dot should show up. The lights flashed again and he saw a green-topped head.

It was Bernard. Bernard had the chip. He probably had it the whole damn time and either didn't remember or didn't know. A suspicious part of Garrus wondered if he did know, but didn't trust him enough to tell him.

Eleven minutes.

 _'I have to stop him,'_ Garrus told himself as he extracted his Widow from his back. _'I don't have time to climb up there and keep chasing him.'_

He loaded one concussive round into the chamber and took aim where he predicted Bernard to be, based on how fast he was running. Garrus didn't have his visor to help him target. It was a shot in the dark that he had to take, relying on his ability alone. He was certain he could make it.

Yet, when the light flashed and Garrus saw the human in his sights, his finger hesitated on the trigger, not because he thought he would miss. It was because Bernard had stopped running all together. He was motionless and facing him, staring down the Widow's scope. Through the magnification, Garrus saw tears streaking down the human's cheeks and his eyes were wide with both horror and betrayal. Bernard had no idea what was going on and he was utterly terrified. It was enough to make Garrus' heart ache when he resolved himself to squeeze the trigger, hoping the round wouldn't kill him.

He was already moving by the time Bernard's body hit the ground.

' _Scoped and dropped,'_ he thought wryly.

He bolted for the ladder that would take him to the top of the catwalk, scalingthe rungs as quickly as he could, and hurried for the prone body sprawled out on the floor. On his omni, the neon dot had stopped moving. He had his target.

Utilizing his old C-Sec training, not to mention all the times he had pressed his mouth to Shepard's throat, he easily located the pulse found in a human's neck and was pleased to feel it flutter against the pad of his finger. A nasty, purple bruise would already be blossoming all across Bernard's chest, but he'd live.

“I promised to get you out of here, didn't I?” Garrus told the unconscious body as he crouched down to scoop him up. He felt the weight of Bernard's head lull back as he was lifted from the floor. Then, as Garrus turned to hurry back for the ladder, his eyes fixed firmly on his destination, Garrus suddenly felt like he was being watched. Glancing down at his burden, he found Bernard staring hard at him, his face a blank slate.

The human's eyes welled red- not with tears. Blood. More came trickling out of Bernard's nose, trailing down to his mouth and that's when Garrus knew he'd wandered right into a trap. Again.

“YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE COME. YOU'RE NOT THE ONE!”

Blood gushed harder from Bernard's eyes and mouth before Garrus found himself blown off his feet, flying backwards in the air. He had enough presence of mind to feel the absence of the human's weight in his arms before his head met the stone wall and all went dark.

 

* * *

 

“Gar... s. Ga....s,” was the sound he heard when the world came spinning back into focus. “Garr...s, wa... up! Garr... out of... er!”

“What?” He mumbled, not knowing entirely who the question was for.

“Garrus!” His name echoed through his skull. It felt like a steel-toed boot kicking his brain. He winced at the sound. “Get up!”

It was Shepard.

“Shep...” He murmured. His tongue was like lead in his mouth. Was that blood he tasted?

“Damn it, Vakarian.” There was a definite sense of urgency to her tone that immediately put him on edge despite his dizziness. “Get up and get moving now!”

“What happened, Shepard?”

“You have six minutes. Go!” A beat and then. “ _Please!_ ”

It all flooded back to Garrus then. He had been knocked out, thankfully not for long, but long enough to lose precious minutes on the clock. His instincts screamed at him to stand and walk. To run. To return to the safety of his mate's arms. He staggered to his feet, swaying as he did so, and began to hurry for the ladder. It wasn't until he reached it that another bit of memory tore through his mind and caused him to look around. His eyes landed on the motionless body of a male human.

“Vakarian, go!”

“The chip,” he slurred. He was already hurrying back to Bernard as fast as his wobbly legs could carry him.

“You found it?” Shepard gasped. Then, despite herself, Shepard breathed, “Leave it. Get out of there.”

“No.”

“Vakarian!”

He didn't know what to say. He pictured EDI's mechanical smile when she would turn to look at her co-pilot. He remembered Joker, his face drawn and ashen the one time he requested to be left alone when they were marooned on that planet. He saw the guilt in Shepard's eyes after he had informed her of EDI's fate.

“The chip,” he repeated. He was so close. “EDI. Joker. You.” Bernard stared up unseeingly at the stone ceiling above. Blood trickled down the side of his head from his ears. Red streaked his cheeks like shed tears. Garrus had failed him. “I'm sorry,” he lamented to the corpse before he began rifling through his pockets.

“No, Garrus. Don't apologize.” Shepard must have misunderstood him. “You did all you could. Please, just get yourself out!”

Garrus couldn't find the words to correct her so he didn't bother to answer. He simply continued to loot the human, allowing the sound of his breath to assuage Shepard's nerves that he was still there. After a few seconds, his fingers closed around a small piece of metal. Withdrawing it from Bernard's pants pocket, Garrus held it up to inspect it. He wasn't quite sure what it would look like, but he'd venture a guess that a metal piece with a bunch of circuitry webbing the sides was a close enough approximation. He pocketed the piece, cast one last regretful look down at Bernard's lifeless body, and turned to hurry for the ladder.

“Easy does it, Big Guy,” Shepard soothed in his ear as he scaled the rungs. “Don't fall.”

When he reached the bottom, he quickly checked the remaining time on his omni again. The action would prove unnecessary because the asari V.I spoke cheerily over the comms again.

“ _Attention LCMF staff. Self-destruct protocol has been enacted. Please vacate the premises. For your safety, we at LCMF provide fifteen minutes to evacuate. You now have five minutes. Thank you for your continued cooperation and have a nice day! Repeating.”_

Garrus was running again. It was around the time he'd reached the center of the large room that the lights flashed again and stayed on for a few seconds longer. Despite himself, Garrus' feet slammed to a halt as the scenery around him was bathed in light for the first time. His heart hammered against the wall of his chest as his eyes fell on lettering that covered the stone walls from floor to ceiling. All around him, the same word, written in several different languages.

'You're not the one,' the monster had frequently told him. The whole time, Garrus' hand had been fisted with anger, thinking-no, _knowing_ the beast was referring to his mate. And yet, as the word ' _Kaisar_ ' filled every inch of his field of vision like a laser in a labyrinth of mirrors, Garrus knew he had been wrong.

Shepard wasn't the one.

“Vakarian!” The aforementioned human scolded him. “GO!”

He went. With renewed energy he fled from the room, ignoring the pain that shot up his leg. Whether or not he survived, Miranda and Liara heard the Leviathan's message,too. Surely, they would relay it to Shepard, also assuming it was referring to her. She, in turn, would likely do the same because who else could the Leviathans be talking about than the human they had spoken with.

No one but him had seen the writing on the wall. No one but him would know what it meant. No one but him would know that Shepard wasn't the person that needed the warning.

It was Adrien Victus.

With three minutes on the clock -helpfully reported by the stupid V.I- the elevator finally came into sight.

 _'Please don't be broken. Please don't be broken.'_ He chanted internally to himself.

“It shouldn't be,” Shepard informed him, indicating that he had actually voiced his thoughts aloud. “Miranda and Grunt took it with no problem.”

It occurred to him: “The artifact?” He hurried through the door and slammed the button for the top floor, hating that his survival was now at the mercy of an exceedingly slow elevator.

Two minutes left. Garrus resigned to stop checking and slumped to the floor, panting.

“They got it,” Shepard told him, obviously trying to sound encouraging, but he knew better. He chose to ignore the choked strain he heard in her voice. It almost made him keen at the sound of it. “They got it and you got the chip. Job well done, Big Guy. It's time to come home now.”

Home. Bernard wanted to go home. Garrus didn't feel like it was a job well done, but he lacked the energy to argue. Instead he told her: “My leg hurts.”

“You got a hitch in your giddy-up, huh?” Garrus smiled, despite the tightness he heard in Shepard's tone. If he was going to die, he was all right listening to her voice as he did so. “Don't tell me you're getting old.”

“Easy now,” he replied, watching the numbers that indicated the floors reducingas if they were counting down his seconds to live. “Falling Makos have a way of 'putting a hitch in your giddy-up' when they use your leg as a landing pad. At least, that's been my experience over the years.”

“And there's the excuse train rolling into the station, right on time,” Shepard sallied.

Garrus purred in response, lowering his voice to an octave he knew Shepard could never resist. “When I get out of here, I'll show you who's getting old.”

“You'll have to get back here first,” she countered breathily.

The temptation to tell her how he felt flared up again. He knew the words were unnecessary and he had even told her once before, 'I love you,' just before she left him behind. Yet, as much as he wanted to, he suspected that she wouldn't want to hear it right now. She would likely say something akin to all the bad romance vids like, 'Stop it. Don't talk like that.'

The door chimed with less than a minute left on the clock and Garrus was on his feet and squeezing through the steel doors before they could even cycle all the way open. He hurtled down the hallways and through the -thankfully- empty lobby. It would seem that Liara was successful in getting the people out.

Mercifully, the front doors were wide open.

“C'mon, Vakarian,” Shepard whispered in his ear. “You can move faster than that. Go!”

Dry, desert air filled his senses the instant he threw himself through the open exit, out into the open. Sand absorbed the impact of his frenzied steps, making his leg scream its protest as he hurried away from the ill-fated facility. He didn't stop until he caught sight of Zaeed. The old merc was jogging towards him, away from a throng of puzzled-looking employees along with his ground team. They had all made it.

“And how went your 'covert operation'?” Zaeed had just enough time to ask, his voice dripping with sarcasm, before a loud explosion violently shook the ground they stood on. Garrus turned to watch the facility he had just fled from collapse into the sand as all the tunnels beneath it imploded in on themselves. When the last of the tremors reverberated through the purple sand, Garrus turned back to Zaeed and was met with likely the closest thing to a smug grin the old merc was able to muster.

Garrus glared at him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and for all the support. It really does mean a lot! :)
> 
> I didn't do a fic recommendation last time, but I'll do one this week. If you're like me and you wished you could have romanced Tiran Kandros in Andromeda I have just the series for you. The [Only When We're Done Series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/710301)  
> by [EllieMorgan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieMorgan/pseuds/EllieMorgan). The whole series is told through Kandros' POV and the author does an absolutely fantastic job at nailing his voice. The whole thing is sweet, funny and extremely well done and thought out.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [shretl (Girlundone)](http://archiveofourown.org/users/girlundone/pseuds/shretl) for her ever so wonderful beta work and advice. <3
> 
> Remember back in chapter one when I said, "I'm going to update weekly!" Yeah... that didn't work out so well for me. Sorry (again) for the wait! We're reaching the end of this installment now, tying up some loose ends and maybe unraveling some more. ;) I'm already itching to start the next installment, but I'm full steam ahead with this one.  
> Thank you all for reading!

There was a point in time when Garrus would have reveled in the opportunity to arrange help for people with nothing but a quick call through his omni-tool as he was able to do in that desert for the LCMF employees. They were shaken, cold, and more than a little in shock as to why their place of employment had sunk into the ground, but they were alive.

Wandering among the throng of employees were a few scattered mercs that had manged to escape the mine when they came to their senses after the second artifact was destroyed. Some of them provided a rather humorous show of confusion while trying their best to blend in with the crowd of civilians. Others tried to run, but Liara and Grunt put a swift end to that. Many blinked reproachfully at Garrus' soiled clothes, stained with the blood of their comrades, but they were in no state to attempt to do anything about it. He ignored both their questions and scornful looks, knowing that it wouldn't be long before the authorities arrived to apprehend them. Then they would no longer be his problem.

He knew he should have felt some shred of happiness or accomplishment at watching Asteria government vehicles descend from the sky simply because he- a Spectre, told them to. Remembering all the times he'd beat his fists against the proverbial wall of protocol while simultaneously assuring some wronged victim that he was 'doing all he could,' should have made him laugh at how easy it was now. With just two magic words- 'Spectre Authority'- doors flew open where before they slammed shut. He had helped these people today. And yet, as he sat in the purple sand, staring at the smoking crater that was the LCMF mining facility, he felt only apprehension.

Somewhere, lying beneath miles of sand and rubble, lay the corpse of someone he had assumed direct responsibility for.

 _'It's one life,'_ his inner turian reminded him. _'It was one life in exchange for all the others.'_ Somehow, the notion didn't make him feel any better. It was one life, sure, but it was one life that had put his trust in him, that Garrus promised to protect. For all the good that did him.

Bernard's death was a stark reminder of what his new position entailed. Sure, he had an ease and convenience now that was never granted to him before, but it came at a cost he hadn't considered. As a cop, when things didn't go his way and innocent people paid for it, he at least had the bitter luxury of casting blame on the legal system. He had always done his best with what he could get away with and, at times, a little more than that. Eventually, he'd get lassoed by the red tape and left powerless to do anything more. People got hurt because the legal system failed them- not him.

Now, as the image of Bernard's tear-stained face branded itself to his memory, he had no one to blame but himself.

His shortcomings were his own.

His failures were his own.

He refused to speak to the officials that flocked to him for word on just what the fuck happened. Of course they wanted to know why such a profitable business was suddenly in ruins and the employees of said business were strewn outside, lost and confused. For a brief moment, he contemplated the idea of telling them. He knew the Council would disapprove of him doing so without their consent, which made it all the more tempting. But then, and much to his irritation, he thought of the disfavor he knew he'd see on Victus' face which proved to be enough to make him stalk past the bureaucrat with nothing but a curt, “No comment.”

That was another troubling conundrum that forced Garrus into silence during the car ride back to the Kodiak in Ta'relle. What was he going to tell Victus?

The thought of the Leviathans making an attempt to assume control over the galaxy was bad, but Garrus couldn't say he was surprised by it. They were fallen titans living in obscurity, sequestered and hidden in the trenches of the deepest oceans for cycles beyond counting. As Garrus has learned over the years, hubris is not something designated to just one species and for beings once considered the rulers of the galaxy, living the way they do now has to be irksome. It seemed only natural- inevitable, even- that they'd seize an opportunity to claw their way back to power.

What really bothered Garrus was the apparent involvement of, not only someone he knew personally, but a Councilor- aleader to the new cycle.

 _Kaisar-_ an all but dead word meaning above Primarch and thus above Hierarchy. Unlike Victus' time in the military,where his regiment was dedicated to fighting large bands of Separatists, Garrus' was targeted at pirates and the odd race traffickers crazy enough to conduct business in or near Hierarchy space. So, while his knowledge of the Separatists was limited beyond the standard of what was taught in schools, he knew that even they used it sparingly,if at all, and it was certainly unheard of in any Loyalist turian culture. That was until Adrien Victus rose to power. Then the word was whispered more and more, occasionally having to be removed from subway walls after being painted on or carved into the stone. And despite being what Garrus would consider a 'bad turian,' Adrien was Hierarchy through and through and would chafe at any usage of the title.

 _'Well, verbal usage,'_ Garrus mentally amended, remembering the scene he witnessed outside Cipritine Hospital, days after the Primarch's attempted assassination. The ground had glittered with metal bullets that were placed almost reverently in the sun.

Still, Victus wasn't going to be happy with what Garrus had to tell him.

Hours later, Garrus still pored through his thoughts even as the Kodiakhatch lifted with a _hiss_ to reveal the surrounding steel and chrome of the _Normandy's_ cargo bay. He let his team file out ahead of him and, when it was his turn to step out,he was so distracted that he almost walked into Shepard, seated in her wheelchair and waiting for him.

She looked up at him, momentarily wide-eyed, which was when Garrus remembered his new look of red Taetrus colony markings. Her eyes roved quickly down his body, taking in the multi-colored gore that had spattered his disguise. He was about to mumble a quick apology and a promise to shower when her arms came up to circle his hips, the side of her face resting against the vile substance that coated his waist. It was going to stick to her skin, he knew, but she didn't seem to care. It was then his fatigue crashed over him and he found himself struggling to remain on his feet.

Shepard didn't keep their relationship a secret by any means, but she always strived for an airof professionalism among the crew. For her to embrace him openly like this, like she had done back on Earth at the rendezvous point in front of the Primarch, meant she was scared- terrified for him. She didn't care who was around to see and as he felt the warmth of her arms seep through the ruin of his sticky clothes, neither did he.

Garrus sank to his knees and pressed his brow against hers.

“I'm all right, Shepard.”

“Such sweet lies you tell, Vakarian.” She wasn't crying. Tears were something she would only share privately with him, but he could hear the relief in her voice all the same.

“I know I should say 'sorry for scaring you.'”

“That'd be nice.”

Garrus brushed his nose against hers. “But not as much as I want to say, 'now you know how I felt when you disappeared beneath the water in that old mech back on Despoina.'”

“I guess that's fair,” she admitted with a wry smile.

Garrus spent the next thirty minutes briefing her on all that had transpired, leaving Bernard's fate for last. He had planted himself on a gunmetal-gray storage crate. Shepard watched him from her mobile seat, patiently listening without interruption besides the occasional question. He knew that the time he was spending talking to Shepard could be considered a distraction from time he should be spending speaking to the Councilor, but it helped to get his thoughts together before throwing himself into the inevitable conversation he dreaded.

“When I came to, he was already dead. Blood was coming out of his nose and ears like his brain had been... scrambled or something.”

Dead eyes and a broken promise. Garrus' fingers twitched, tempted to close into a fist. Shepard didn't miss it.

“I'm sorry,” she told him.

Garrus brushed her apology away with a flick of his mandible. “Hey, it's part of the job, right? I've seen civilians get caught in the crossfire before. This isn't the first time-” He huffed a bitter sound of what could almost be described as laughter. “-This isn't the first time by any means, but somehow I feel more personally responsible for this than any of the other times. 'Survival of the fittest,' I guess.”

He realized he was avoiding her gaze when he saw her hand join his atop his lap. An unsmiling face met him when he looked up.

“Now that doesn't sound like my guy,” she told him, almost earning herself a smile for throwing that familiar phrase back at him.

“No,” he agreed. “I guess it doesn't. 'Survival of the fittest' isn't why my dad and I joined C-Sec. It isn't why I wanted to stop that monster of a doctor from hurting any more people. And it isn't why my men and I pushed back against the gangs on Omega.” He sighed before continuing. “This is just a bitter pill I know I have to swallow.”

“I can relate.” Of course she could. Who knew loss better than Commander Shepard? She released his hand to run her fingers quickly through her tresses. Regrettably, her hand then found a new home on her own lap. “Remember Fai Dan on Feros? I think that if I had been faster, maybe he wouldn't have shot himself. I think of Ashley, Thane, Legion, Mordin.” It was her turn to emit a bitter sound. “Hell, sometimes I think of Saren.” A beat, and then, “I sure as hell think of Tarquin. I don't think I'll ever forget his face- the expression he wore when he looked right at me.” Garrus must have revealed his eagerness to cut in on her self-deprecation because Shepard hurried with, “I'm not trying to turn this into a pity party. I guess I just want to remind you that I know what you're going through. You're not alone in this. I got a taste of the Spectre life and it wasn't always sweet. But, you don't need me to tell you that. You were there for all of it.” Her hand found his again and she gave it a gentle squeeze. Over time, Garrus had become well-versed in the myriad array of Shepard's facial expressions, but the look she gave him now was almost indiscernible. It was as if she knew something he didn't, which, he could admit, wouldn't surprise him. “For what it's worth, I think you're turning out to be a damn good Spectre, Vakarian. You're... really growing into your own leadership.” She flashed him a smile that never failed to make him stop and stare for a moment. “It's a good look on you.”

In front of anyone else, Garrus would have felt sheepish at the bashfulness he heard in both his chuckle and subvocals when he replied: “And she's still trying to make me blush.”

Shepard laughed. “Not this once, no.”

Touched, Garrus placed his other hand over hers atop his lap, an echo of the gesture he'd used when they reunited on the battlegrounds of Menae. He knew Bernard would likely haunt his thoughts for some time and an even deeper portion of him equated it to his guilt surrounding Omega like an insect to a flame.YetShepard, as always, made swallowing even the largest pills tolerable. She was a cool drink of water in an arid desert. How he wished he could have been that for her during their hunt for Saren as she was for him now.

“I wouldn't have been opposed to it, you know,” she had informed him once while they laid in bed some nights back. He recalled the way her mouth had tugged into a coquettish grin.

“Really?” He had shot her a sideways look. “Even through all those Alliance fraternization rules? I find that hard to believe.”

“I would have made an exception for you if... you know... you'd shown interest.” She glared at him then, eyes narrowed into an accusatory stare, but the gentle dance of her alluring fingers down his bare torso ebbed any heat from her glower.

Garrus bent his head to nuzzle her throat. “Oh, believe me. I was interested,” he growled against her skin, sensing the resultant quickening of her pulse against his mouth. “But after watching the way you sent Alenko and Liara sulking, what was a poor, young turian to think?”

“That maybe the Commander's tastes lie more in line with plated hide and a handsome fringe.”

“Flatterer,” he had quipped before silencing Shepard's laughter with his mouth against hers.

NowGarrus released her hand so that he could reach into his pocket to withdraw the datachip. Holding it between them, he turned it around his fingers so that Shepard could examine all sides of it. She took it from his offered hand to bring it close to her face.

“Then there's the question of what to do with this,” she said as her eyes trailed over the circuitry that lined the metal like veins.

Garrus knew what she wanted to do with it. He reached for the chip, half expecting her to keepit from him, but she allowed him to pluck it from her hand. “I know you want to stick this in EDI's head and see if she'll fire up.”

“Yeah. I do,” she whispered sadly, her eyes still fixed on the piece of metal before she looked up to meet his gaze. “You don't agree,” she said, not as an accusation- simply a fact.

Garrus hated watching the disappointment shadow her features when he shook his head. “We don't know what it does, Shepard.”

“I know.” She gave a reluctant nod. “But Joker...” Shepard trailed off and looked away from him, her brows pinched in concern. After a moment, she peered up at him guiltily and said, “Garrus, there's something I never told you about Joker. I learned something that I don't think he wanted me to know, which is why I never told you before.”

After a quick scan of their surroundings for listening ears, Shepard quietly began her tale of when she'd gone to visit Thane at Huerta Memorial and overheard a conversation between a guilt-stricken asari commando and her psychotherapist.

“I know I shouldn't have listened in. It wasn't my place or my business, but when I heard her mention Tiptree and Hilary, I couldn't just keep walking. He has no one, Garrus. EDI was all he had left and I _knew_ that and still I...” She looked away from him again, leaving the final words unspoken and yet they were loud and clear. 'Took her away' was what she meant to say.

Garrus reached for the armrests of her chair and drew her close to him so he could easily press his brow against hers. He closed his eyes and emitted a comforting hum he knew she couldn't entirely understand, but he hoped the gist of it would come across.

“I would've made the same choice,” he admitted, opening his eyes to lock his gaze with hers. “EDI was just as determined to end the Reapers as we all were. Any one of us would have sacrificed ourselves if it meant bringing them down. I think, if given the choice, she wouldn't have liked the other options either. She wouldn't have wanted you to force a molecular change on the galaxy for her sake and she wouldn't have wanted you to-” Garrus blinked, his words faltering for a moment. “-To try to take _control_ of the Reapers, potentially becoming the next Harbinger or who knows what.There was only one choice, Shepard. You made the right one.”

“I miss her,”she told him faintly as to hide the hitch in her voice, but he heard it. “I still catch myself speaking out loud to her, as if she'll answer like she used to.”

So did Garrus every now and then. It took time to get accustomed to EDI's ever-present, synthetic company, but once he had, he discovered that he enjoyed speaking with her while he stood hunched over his terminal in the forward battery. She was always good for discussing trajectories and firing algorithms. Hell, she was probably the first one to accept his presence on the Cerberus SR-2 before any of the human crew did, save for Joker and Shepard,of course. Even Yeoman Chambers initially only viewed him as a subject to pick at.

“Me too,” he affirmed. “But I was with you when you were tasked to handle that 'rogue VI' on Luna. Remember that?”

After a deep breath she pulled away from his brow. “I remember a whole lot of bullets and turrets.”

Garrus was pleased to hear a shred of humor come from her so soon after such a heavy topic. Maybe he really was improving on the whole romance thing. In retrospect, maybe she was too. They always had a funny way of improving off the other. He was pleased to see that their relationship was not an exception.

“We don't know how advanced this chip is in her development. It could be EDI as we knew her or it could be a scared, angry VI that we're stranded with out in space.”

Shepard suddenly straightened in her chair. “The geth!”

Garrus hesitated. That was not an option he'd considered. They _could_ possibly help them regain EDI or, at the very least, glean what information from the chip they could. Still, EDI was a bit of an exception for Garrus as far as his trust for AI went. He liked Legion too, but Shepard was the one that insisted on placing his name on the 'Wall of the Fallen,' not him. He was certainly not as open to them as Shepard was, for the most part, but he could admit that it was probably their safest choice.

“Under one condition.”

“First you're giving me orders. Now you're giving me conditions.” She sat back in her chair, watching him alertly. She wasn't angry, he knew. After all, she understood his feelings toward AI. Garrus suspected that she would have adhered to his conditions even if he didn't have command over the ship.

“I want Tali overseeing it. No one knows the geth better than she does.”

“Agreed,” she asserted, but her mouth had pulled into a grim frown. “What I want to know is why the Leviathans were interested in the chip in the first place. They were obviously trying to keep it from you or... using it to lure you.” Her frown deepened and her eyes darkened, shadowed by an awful memory. “After... _Jesus_... _everything_ that's happened, I can't believe they're willing to play around with AI again.”

She had a point. It was their AI gone wrong that ended up dooming, not only themselves, but innumerable people if the AI -the Catalyst- she spoke with on the Citadel was to be believed. As immensely powerful as the Leviathans were, they were the galaxy's worst fuck-ups. Somehow, in a strange sort of way, thinking of them like that reduced their terrifying presence. Well, at least a little. One day Garrus hoped for the opportunity to tell them as much.

“Maybe the geth can help us figure that out, too,” he offered, more as a demonstration of his commitment to her suggestion than his genuine thoughts on whether or not they'd actually be successful.

“Let's hope so.” Shepard's deep frown faded to be replaced with another bright smile. “Now, if you're done stalling, I think you've got a mission to report, Vakarian.”

“I'm not stalling.”

“You're stalling,” she countered.

“Maybe a little.” Garrus stood from his crate and bent to press his mouth against the top of Shepard's head. Strands of her hair clung lightly to his mandibles when he pulled away. “I guess it's time to- what's the saying?- 'face the music?'”

Shepard reached for his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “You'll do fine.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Garrus supposed it could be considered stalling to completely bypass the CIC in favor of the cabin, but surely the multi-colored blood that stained his clothes and clung to his hide warranted a shower. Not to mention the paint on his face that still needed to come off. And hadn't he earned the extra time to allow the heat to soak into his aching leg?

Yet, when he stepped into the lavatory and moved to turn the shower on, he felt guilty. However much Victus had changed from the man he once knew, he still deserved to know the outcome of the mission he had personally sent a Spectre on. What was it he had said? That Garrus was the only one he could trust to complete it?

Resigned, and with a heavy sigh, Garrus stepped away from the shower in favor of the sink to simply scrub the makeup from his face. It took some time and it left the porcelain stained red and silver. Though, it had already been stained by the washing of previous disguises. When he finished and checked himself in the mirror, he was met with the familiar, geometric lines of his old Cipritine markings and, of course, the grizzly scars that would forever mar his face. Pretty.

He thought about changing his clothes, but dismissed the thought for cultural reasons. For turians, reporting to your superiors with the blood of your enemies on you, particularly on your front, is typically viewed favorably. It was a sign that you never ran, never turned your back on the mission, instead pressing ahead despite opposition to see to its conclusion.That, or you're a coward that hung back and then coated yourself with blood in the hopes you would pass as a good soldier.

Garrus highly doubted that Victus would think such a thing of him, but he was still turian and still a superior. So, leaving his soiled clothes on, Garrus stepped into the lift and selected the CIC floor. He meant to walk straight for the War Room -really, he did- but somehow found himself passing it by and heading straight for the bridge, the back of Joker's chair in his sights.

Joker must have heard his approach because he swiveled his seat around before Garrus could even get a word in.

“Well, look who comes crawling to me when he needs a distraction.” The human was reclined casually in his seat with a bag of chips in hand. He gestured at Garrus with the crinkling bag of snacks. “Stalling?”

He was not stalling!

“No.” Garrus reached into his pocket, withdrew the data chip, and offered it to the pilot. “I need this kept safe for the time being and I can't think of a better person than you for the job.”

Joker raised a skeptical brow, but accepted the datachipnonetheless. “Okay,” he said slowly, clearly dubious by both the piece of metal and Garrus' order. “I don't know what you expect me to do if someone comes knocking for it.”

“I'm sure you'll figure something out for EDI's sake.”

Joker's reaction was immediate. Both the bag of snacks and the datachip slipped from his loosened grip, but it was the latter he scrambled to catch. The bag was not so fortunate. It met its fate with the metal floor, spilling its salty contents all over the place.

“Wait, what?”

Garrus lowered himself in the chair -EDI's chair- beside Joker and swiveled it around to face him. He then launched into his explanation of how he found the chip from the facility. He chose to gloss over Bernard's death, not feeling the need to revisit that moment of failure again quite yet. Then, he told him of the discussion he had with Shepard and that they both agreed to seek the geth and Tali's help and why. Jeff was mute throughout the entire story, his eyes fixed almost reverently on the piece of circuitry in his hand.

This was the first time Garrus had seen him so shaken and tight-lipped ever since the moment he discovered EDI had powered down indefinitely. Given what he had just learned from Shepard, watching EDI, watching the last person he loved, fall limp in the chair must have been especially excruciating. Yet, the aptly named Joker never drew attention to his pain. Instead, choosing to hide it behind smiles and sarcastic quips while they struggled to get the _Normandy_ off the ground.

For someone who talked so much, Joker's suffering was silent.

A part of Garrus had to wonder if the pilot privately resented Shepard for her choice. He had no doubt that Shepard did.

He concluded his story with: “I'm sorry we didn't tell you earlier.”

“Yeah. That... sucks.” Joker's mouth pressed into a grim line, his eyes staring a moment longer at the chip before they rose to meet Garrus' watchful gaze. Garrus pretended not to notice the moisture he saw pooling in the human's eyes. “But I get it.”

Garrus leaned forward “So, I can trust you to keep it safe?”

Garrus knew the answer already. Someone would have about as easy a time getting through Joker to that chip as they would trying to getthrough Garrus to Shepard. Joker wasn't a fighter, but that didn't make him any less a soldier. It was easy to forget, but beneath that carefree demeanor, he was just as smart and resourceful as any Alliance marine. Garrus knew he could task no one else better, that no one else would be more _motivated_ to keep that chip hidden and secure.

“I... Yeah.” Joker tugged the front of his cap down, shading his eyes and turned his seat away from Garrus to face the blackness of space. Garrus wondered what he saw there. His family? His home? EDI?Whatever reason Joker had to turn his attention to the void, Garrus took it as a signal that the conversation was over. Not knowing what else to say, he stood from his seat and turned to leave the bridge.

“Hey, Garrus?” He heard from behind. Garrus half-turned to find the pilot facing him again, eyes now reddened, but tears still held firmly at bay. “Thanks.”

Garrus only nodded and, not wanting to draw out what had become a bit of an awkward moment any longer, turned away from the pilot to continue his journey to the War Room.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Standing alone in the comm-chamber, Garrus took a moment to steel himself before putting the call through. While he waited, he mentally went over every possible scenario of how to begin the conversation. He wasn't surprised when each rendition of his thoughts met a similar and unpleasant outcome. No matter how he framed it, Victus wasn't going to be happy.

 _'Not like it's the first time I've disappointed my boss,'_ he reasoned.

Garrus had a total of twenty seconds to collect his thoughts before a projection of Victus flickered into existence. The last time they spoke, it was almost amicable so there was a chance it could go that way again. Regardless, old training kicked in and he couldn't help straightening in the presence of a superior.

“Councilor,” he greeted, deciding to err on the side of professionalism.

“Vakarian.” The name was spoken cold and clipped, setting the tone between an employer and employee. “I've received rather interesting reports from the Asteria government. Something about their largest mining facility sinking into the ground without explanation.” Victus' eyes narrowed. “Elaborate.”

“You were right, sir,” Garrus told him, watching the lines of the Councilor's posture harden the instant the words left his mouth. “It was them. The Leviathans were behind it all.”

Victus remained absolutely silent while Garrus retold the events for the third time in the last two hours. When he got to the part about Dr. Saitō, he hesitated, unsure of how to explain to a Citadel Councilor that they potentially uncovered a way to bring back their very illegal AI. Had it been anyone else, any of the other Councilors, Garrus was sure he would have lied. As it was, he had to believe that his friend would understand, that he'd realize the importance of such a find to the case at hand. If not as his friend, then at least as an old colleague whoknew his work and principles well enough to trust him.

“Sir, one of the doctors there- a Doctor Saitō- used to be an employee of Cerberus. She was the head developer of that... of EDI. I'm sure you remember her from your stay here.” Again, Victus remained absolute in his taciturnity. Garrus paused for a second, expecting _at least_ a nod or some sound of affirmation, but when he didn't receive even that, he felt little choice but to press on. “We recovered a datachip that proves they were developing AI technology in that facility. The Leviathans were quite keen to keep it from me. When we learned about it, a self-destruct countdown started. Lovely place of business, they must've been.” Sometimes Garrus was unable to shut his sarcasm off, especially when he was nervous. It was a quirk that got him into trouble more than a few times. Victus didn't so much as flutter a mandible at the inserted quip. “The chip was on a civilian my team and I met shortly after entering the facility. By the time we learned of it, the Leviathan had seized control of him and all those missing mercs you mentioned.” Garrus gestured to his bloody state. “I found them, by the way. I chose to chase him down while my ground team destroyed the remaining artifact, but when I caught him...” Garrus paused again, remembering the tear-stained face that stared back at him through his scope, betrayed. “The Leviathans have the power to kill their thralls whenever they want. Damn near almost killed me in the process.”

“Casualties?” Finally, Victus spoke.

Plenty. Too many to count, but Garrus knew Victus was not referring to the endless waves of mercs he had to carve his way through. To Victus, the death of a merc was little more than collateral damage, if even that. It was the innocent bystanders- the employees sucked into the vortex of the Leviathans' influence that he cared about.

“Other than that civilian, none that I know of. I sent a member of my team to evacuate them before the place came down.”

“And the datachip?”

Uh-oh.

“In our possession, sir. I'm taking it to be examined by professionals.”

“'Professionals?'”

“The geth.” _That_ got a reaction from the otherwise stoic politician. Victus flared his mandibles into a surprised show of teeth. “I know it seems a little-”

“Unauthorized,” the Councilor cut in sharply, clearly unamused.

Garrus winced slightly at the icy tone. “I was going to say 'unorthodox,' but Adri- Councilor, I know this was an unsanctioned decision-” Garrus chanced a step closer to the Councilor's projection. “But I need you to trust me on this one.”

Victus' eyes fixated on his face like a sniper's laser dot. It made him want to dash for cover like one too, but Garrus refused to look away. He had to trust that his friend was still there, that he knew Garrus enough to rely on him. Spirits, he was his damn Advisor throughout the war and after.

After a long, tense silence, Victus finally said, “You behaved rashly in your mission to retrieve Commander Shepard.” Garrus' anger flared instantly and he opened his mouth, armed with a heated retort, but was cut off by the vibrations of a warning thrum. Holo-comm has come a long way in projecting the subtleties of turian subvocals. “But all things considered, you did well here. You've done everything I've asked of you and more. You have my leave to deal with the chip as you see fit.” Garrus was still bristling at the last comment, but he learned long ago when not to push his luck. Still, he wouldn't thank him. Judging by the _almost_ amused flare of his mandible, Victus didn't expect him to. “If what Commander Shepard told me about the Catalyst is true, I find it strange that the Leviathans have any interest in AI at all.”

Garrus nodded, recognizing what appeared to be an attempt at conversation on the Councilor's part. “She said the same thing. Maybe they think they've learned from their mistakes enough to avoid the same outcome? And damned if that doesn't trivialize unleashing a race of sentient machines on the galaxy.”

“I'm not surprised that they're choosing now, of all times, to reemerge.” Hands still folded behind his back, Victus shifted his weight to the other foot. His face was set in a contemplative image. “As far as we know-”

“Which really isn't much at all,” Garrus reminded him.

Victus acknowledged him with a nod. “They've never tried to take over any cycle before us. Why now, do you think?” By his tone, Victus clearly knew the answer already. The question was plainly posed as a way to learn if he and Garrus were on the same page.

They were.

“In order to return to what they once were, they need sentient thralls, which tended to be in short supply once the Reapers were done.They never took over before because they couldn't. For better or worse, the Reapers were the only thing keeping them in check and now, with them gone...”

“And with the galaxy still licking its wounds, they've never had a better opportunity to strike than now.” Victus began a slow, unhurried pace back and forth across the platform as Garrus watched him gather his thoughts. “You once told me that they chose to help us combat the Reapers after meeting Commander Shepard in person. Because of her, they decided that we were a cycle worth saving, but I sincerely doubt that it was out of any sort of charity on their part.”

In the face of the current nightmarish topic, Garrus couldn't help the pleased grin his mandible flared into. It was like old times again, the Advisor and Primarch slinging out ideas and combining their respective experience to form formidable plans. It felt good. “We were worth _saving_ , because we were worth _using_.”

“Exactly.” Victus paused his pacing and turned to face Garrus. If he didn't know any better, he'd say there was a partial smile on the older turian's face again.

Encouraged, Garrus asked him, “So now that we know they're a threat again, what does the Council plan to do about it?”

At that, Victus' smile vanished, wiped away by the onset of his diplomatic reality. “I can't be sure. That's something I'll have to discuss with the other-” Victus paused to remap his words. “With my affiliates. Though, the more cover we deny our enemies, the less opportunities they'll have to ambush us.”

“Are you suggesting to make this public knowledge?” Garrus canted his head to the side, amused at the Councilor's very un-Council-like method.

“If nothing else, we could begin to monitor mining facilities more closely. They do seem to be the ones to stumble across these artifacts.” As if the general inside him was clawing his way out, Victus resumed his pacing. “As for those that have already been found and hidden, they could be anywhere. Scattered throughout the colonies, stowed away on ships, hidden in people'sbasements-” Victus halted to face Garrus again and added. “-Already smuggled to the Citadel.”

Victus' final words opened up like a vacuum in the room, extinguishing any ease Garrus had managed to gain. Given what he witnessed in that mine, that was a very real possibility. He straightened his posture and prepared to deliver the last bit of bad news he had. “Sir, there's... one more thing I need to tell you. That human I mentioned earlier, whenever the Leviathan took control,it would talk through him. It kept telling me, 'You're not the one.'”

“Commander Shepard,” Victus deduced, coming to the same natural conclusion Garrus had.

“Yeah, or so I thought at first. Then, during my escape, I ran through a room with walls covered, floor to ceiling, in writing. It was just the same word over and over. I don't think they were talking about Shepard.” Garrus took a breath and pinned Victus with a grave stare. “Sir, the word was 'Kaisar.'” Victus went completely rigid and his mandibles tightened to his face. He didn't need any clarification as to what Garrus was getting at, but he felt the need to do so anyway. “I think they were talking about you.”

As the seconds ticked by and the stifling quiet withstood, Garrus began to shuffle his feet under Victus' unrelenting stare. It was as if he was searching for something or piecing together a complicated equation, Garrus' head standing in for the board. When it finally became too much, Garrus offered: “It might be in your best interest to establish more security around you.”

“You seem to be confused, Vakarian.”

Gone was the friend Garrus knew so well. Pulled away into obscurity like so many before him. It hurt to watch every time.

“Sir?”

“Or perhaps I'm the one that requires clarification. You see, I don't recall reinstating you as my Advisor.”

“What?” Garrus bridled. “What are you talking about? That has nothing to do with-”

“And I know for certain that I didn't ask for your opinion.” Garrus could damn near visualize the wall rising up again. “Your job is to get me information when I ask for it and to execute my orders when I give them.”

“Adrien, I have no idea what they want with you. For all you know they could be planning-”

“That is not your prerogative, Spectre.” The words were carried on a tenor of barely suppressed rage. Garrus felt them slice into his hide like betrayal. The Councilor stood tall atop the platform, observing Garrus with a look of pure condemnation. He's seen it before, leveled at other politicians that sought to best Victus in the game and were quickly silenced with that very look. Admittedly, it could be fun to watch the scene play out, but as Garrus found himself on the receiving end of that stare he could no longer find anything humorous about it. “Await further orders. And don't do anything stupid in the meantime.”

The Councilor's hologram flickered out, leaving his final words echoing in his wake, further stoking Garrus' anger. The sting of his talons stabbing into his palms alerted Garrus to the state of his hands, clenched into hard fists as they were. He needed a drink or maybe something to hit. He turned on his heel to leave the comm-chamber, intent for both the bar and the punching bag, in that order. He would have done just that if not for the redhead that blocked his escape, bringing his erupting tirade to a simmering boil.

“Geez,” remarked Shepard, eyes flickering between Garrus and the desolate hologram platform behind him. The wave of blue that lit the comm-chamber washed out her ivory skin, making her look paler than usual. “Who spit in his oatmeal?”

He didn't know what oatmeal was, but he recognized the joke for what it was supposed to be: an attempt to cheer him up. He wasn't in the mood. Garrus met her eyes briefly, tried for a smile, failed, and then moved to brush past her. There was a bottle of _horosk_ sitting in the bar that sounded really inviting right now.

Before he could pass her, she gently reached out and caught his wrist. He couldn't stop the quiver in his mandibles at the contact, giving away his apprehension and he knew she saw it. “Hold on.” Her voice was softbut edged with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“That didn't sound 'fine'.” Her grip on his wrist, firm but gentle, did not lessen. “Did something happen when you were on Palaven? That didn't sound like the Victus I know.”

“Knew,” Garrus corrected. “And that's because he isn't.” Shepard let his wrist go when he yanked it -probably a little too hard- from her grip. Guilt was quick to shame him for the roughness of the action so he didn't immediately turn to leave like he wanted to.

“You care about him, don't you.” It wasn't a question. Shepard pinned him with a measured look. “You're genuinely concerned about him.”

“Shepard-”

“No, you are. The look on your face right now reminds me quite a bit of how you looked when you were worried sick about your family, waiting to hear from them. Is that what he is to you?”

Scratch that. He was ready to leave now. “It doesn't matter,” Garrus rumbled as he turned away from her.

He had made it one foot out the door when he heard: “He cares about you,too.”

Garrus stopped, whirling on the spot to face her again. The blue illumination of the comm-chamber, now behind her, silhouetted the frame of her chair and the outline of her face. “He's got a funny way of showing it.”

“Garrus, the last thing he said to me was to take care of you.” Her voice had risen, not quite to a shout, but it was enough to slice through the gentle hum of the ship around them. Garrus stared at her, at a loss for words, but his lack of response and movement prompted her to explain. “When he was last on the _Normandy,_ after I told him everything that happened between me and the Catalyst, I... hugged him.”

“You hugged him?” Garrus had a hard time picturing that man _hugging_ anything, let alone a human. Let alone _his_ human.

Shepard shook her head. “He had just told me that I 'did well' and that I 'saved us all.' For a second there, it kind of reminded me of... of Anderson- of his last words to me.” Her shoulders rose and fell in a meager shrug. “And maybe I was emotional at the time, I don't know. I just did. I thanked him for keeping his word during the war and watching out for you on Palaven and for 'getting me out of that fucking hospital.'” She huffed a laugh. “Pretty sure I used the word 'fucking' too.”

Garrus continued to stare down at her. This was the first time he was hearing this story. He remembered returning to the med-bay that day with Morticia in his arms and feeling the tension in the air. Shepard had looked taken aback in that moment.

“He hugged me back, if you can believe it.” He couldn't. She was little more than an object to the Councilor.Nothing more. Shepard was trying to make him feel better, but she didn't know what Garrus knew about Adrien Victus. If anything, she was only enraging him more. “And he told me how I could return the favor. He said 'Commander, please take care of Garrus.'”

“Shepard-” He didn't want to hear any more.

“And he meant it, Garrus.”

“HE CALLED YOU A COMMODITY!” Garrus finally snapped, slamming down a stunned silence between them. She looked at him, her face slack with surprise though, and much to his growing irritation, he _knew_ that it had more to do with his outburst than the subject of it.

He took a breath to cool the raw anger that boiled beneath the surface. That's when he remembered the team of techs stationed just outside the comm-chamber, in the War Room...Where he currently stood rigid with anger. A quick glance revealed them all at their stations, staring intently at their monitors and looking all the world like they hadn't overheard his outburst.

Collecting what remained of his dignity, Garrus stepped back into the privacy of the comm-chamber, hoping he hadn't just pushed Shepard away from him. Mercifully, she followed him in and he cycled the door shut behind her. She didn't wheel herself far from the entrance, instead choosing to watch him from a distance as he crossed the space of floor back to the hologram platform, keeping his back to her while he gathered his thoughts.

And hating himself for yelling at her.

“Remember when I told you that I worked with him after the war?” He heard a small sound of confirmation before continuing. “There's more to it than what I've told you.”

“I kinda figured that.”

“Victus offered me a position twice before I accepted. I wasn't handling your 'second death' well, Shepard. At all. It was so bad that he pulled the whole 'interfering superior' thing.” He paused, feeling Shepard's eyes on his back.

“But turians typically only resort to that for issues like excessive substance abuse...”

“Yeah.” He couldn't bear to look at her, to see the disappointment he knew he'd find if he did. “Problem with being 'Advisor to the Primarch' is that I only had one superior. So, in a moment I never imagined happening, the damn Primarch of Palaven showed up on my doorstep. I believe I told him to 'fuck off' so, of course, his natural response was to rig explosives to my door.”

“Damn, do all turian officers take interventions that seriously?”

Garrus couldn't help the diminutive smile his mandible flared into. He chanced turning his head to aim it at Shepard and was pleased to find her actively listening. Also, she didn't look too angry or disappointed with him so he'd take that as a small victory.

“Only the good ones,” he admitted. “I then went on to punch the Primarch of Palaven in the face, as one does when he shows up uninvited and we continued to beat the crap out of each other for... Spirits, I don't remember how long. It finally came to a head when he grabbed your...” Garrus stopped, realizing he had never told Shepard of how the crew wanted to place her name on the KIA wall. He took that moment to tell her then. She listened mutely while keeping her face fairly free of emotion besides the slight downward curve of her mouth, but he knew it bothered her. However, he knew she wouldn't want to talk about it now so he continued. “I kept it. And when Victus threatened to break it in half, I stopped fighting.”

“Let me get this straight. He shows up, breaks your door, assaults you, and you built a friendship on that?”

“To be fair,” Garrus dipped his head to give her a pointed look. “I hit him first and... yeah. We did. I got better after that, Shepard. I focused on work, on my family, I...” He looked away from her. “I even tried to move on.” Silence. Garrus cringed, not even bothering to hide his shame when he forced himself to meet her eyes again. He found her looking at him, lips parted, confusion and, to his heartbreak, a shred of pain etched across her features. But she deserved to know. “I met a girl on Palaven and... I tried. I went through the motions, I tried to be happy, but... I couldn't.”

After what seemed like hours- though in reality it was likely only seconds- Shepard's lips pressed together into a tight smile. “It's all right, Garrus.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. It is. I won't pretend it doesn't sting a little.” She laughed, somewhat nervously, and then sheepishly added, “I admit, I don't like the idea of another girl putting her hands on you, but you deserve to be happy.”

“I'm happy now,” he assured her.

“Can I at least pretend she was awful?” She asked, glancing up at him through her eyelashes.

Garrus frowned, guilt tightening his mandibles to his face as he thought of the mistreated turian woman he'd left behind. “You could, but it wouldn't be accurate. She was actually... very nice. Her name was Cybele.”

“I didn't need to know her name.”

“Right. Sorry.” Garrus wanted badly to close the space between them, but he refrained. He needed to finish what he began. “Then Victus became the Councilor. It was after that, when we were talking about how to get you out, when he referred to you, to my face, as a _commodity_.”

“He's not wrong.”

Whatever he expected Shepard to say, it wasn't that. Garrus' eyes snapped onto her. “Don't say that,” he growled.

“I'm a Spectre, Garrus-”

He was shaking his head, denying her words and silently begging her to stop diminishing herself.

“And so are you. That makes us-”

“He knows I'm bonded to you, Shepard!” Shepard's mouth snapped shut with an audible click. Anger swept into him, rendering him unable to recognize his mistake until it was too late. “He knew that when he said it. He _knew_ how much I hated watching you be used over and over again. The _Alliance_ , the _Council_ , _Cerberus_.” Garrus spat the names like sins. He needed to move, he needed an outlet to work his rage out of his system so he began to pace. “After everything that had happened- finding out you were _truly_ alive- the _last_ thing I needed to hear was more of the same _shit_ from someone I thought was my friend!”

He was moving too fast, too infuriated to notice her approaching him. It was only when he felt the grip of a small pair of hands on the front his cowl that he stopped his motion. The small hands dragged his thoughts from the torrential storm his mind had become and brought his attention to the pair of eyes that stared up at him... longingly, he registered. Then he noticed the wheelchair some distance from them.

Shepard not only got up on her own, but she _walked_ to him.

He couldn't be sure how long she could hold herself up so he was quick to wrap his arms around her waist to save her a potential fall. Watching her standing under her own weight again was enough to make him forget his anger instantly.

“You're standing,” he intelligently stated.

“Say that again,” she whispered. Confused, he blinked at her, not knowing what she meant. “You're bonded to me?”

Shit. Garrus couldn't bear to hold her gaze any better than he could stop his mandibles from pinching against his face in apology.

“I'm sorry. I-I know humans don't do that so I-” She cut him off with a kiss, using the leverage from both her grip on his cowl, and the support of his arms, to pull herself up to meet his mouth. He eagerly returned it, pulling her flush with his body as he did so. She then reached up behind his head, under his fringe, to pull him down to her, smashing him harder against her lips. It had to hurt her, but she didn't care. It was brief, but it was so packed full of unsaid truths that he was left dizzy when she pulled away.

She didn't go far, however. Shepard cupped his scarred mandible, tracing her thumb along the broken line of blue before she flashed the kind of smile she only reserved for him. “You have no idea how long I've been waiting to hear that.”

Garrus blinked at her. “You knew?” And damned if he was rendered unable to keep his second set of vocals from thrumming emotionally around his words.

She nodded. “Read about it while doing all that 'research.' I had hoped, but I wanted to hear you say it when you were ready.” She laughed softly. “Call me the closet romantic, I guess.”

“It doesn't scare you?”

“Why would it scare me?”

“I wanted to tell you- Spirits, so many times- but you were under so much stress during the war. I didn't want to add to it by making you feel locked down to me. I didn't want you to feel... stuck with me if you ever wanted to... you know... find someone else.” He tried not to wince at the pain that just saying the words brought on.

Trusting the grip he had on her waist, she cupped both mandibles now and gave him an intense look. “Garrus Vakarian, I could never feel 'stuck with you.'” A longing keen thrummed from his second voice box. He couldn't help it and he was too emotional to feel bashful about it either. “It's different for humans, yeah, but it's not any less meaningful. When humans take a partner, we commit ourselves to them. It takes work and it's not always easy, but when we find someone we can't imagine living without, it's worth it.”

Shepard reached for the back of his head again and pulled him down to press his brow against hers. Her breath ghosted against his face when she went on to tell him: “I escaped a pretty shitty existence when I joined the Alliance. Leaving Earth was like escaping a prison.” The corners of her eyes crinkled when she smiled brightly again. “Then this intrepid turian came swaggering into my life and made me realize just how much I'd been missing. I've already experienced a life without him in it.” Her lips caressed his left mandible lightly. His breath caught in his throat. “So I can say-” Her mouth traveled to his right mandible. He was growling softly now, but not for anger. “-For a fact, that I never want to live without that turian again.” She kissed his mouth then, hard, and when she pulled away again it was only far enough to still allow her lips to brush his plating as she said, “You're worth it.”

The wall of the comm-chamber roughly met her back when he shoved her against it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect smut in the next and final chapter. ;)  
> Also, I'm aware of what the real concern around here is: "But, Some_Writer, what about Cybele?!"  
> I know, I know! We'll resolve her in the next chapter. I promise!
> 
> Fic recommendation for this chapter is a toss up between these two because I couldn't choose between them! And since I missed a total of three chapters worth of recs, I figured I could get away with posting two since they're of the same beautiful pairing: Avitus Rix/Macen Barro.
> 
> The first is a whole series aptly named, [ Macen and Avitus](https://archiveofourown.org/series/754821) by [ Marie_Fanwriter.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marie_Fanwriter/profile) This author has done an amazing job fleshing out these characters and their relationship with each other. By the end of each chapter, you'll be so invested in her story-telling and addictive writing style that you'll constantly find yourself clicking 'Next Work->' despite the fact you may have other things to do. This series will have you smiling one minute and then brokenhearted the next.
> 
>    
> The second rec is a simple oneshot called, [When I Wake](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10757496) by [dieofthatroar.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dieofthatroar/pseuds/dieofthatroar) This author crafted a beautiful short story depicting Pathfinder Rix's daily struggle with his faulty SAM constantly repeating 'Avi, Avi, Avi,' with inserts of his past with Macen. This writer took two little-known turians, particularly Macen, and turned them into fully realized characters. You'll find yourself thinking, "Yeah, that's totally something he'd do/say," for a character we never even got to meet in game. 
> 
> Both these writers are wonderful and I can't recommend them enough.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We come to the end at last. Apologies for the delay, but I hope the chapter length makes up for it. I swear, I wasn't slacking! There was just so much I wanted to pack into the final update.
> 
> For this beast of a chapter, I was fortunate to have the help of two beta readers.  
>   
> [shretl (Girlundone)](http://archiveofourown.org/users/girlundone/pseuds/shretl) has been beta-ing for me this entire story, through sickness and health. Not only that, she was even kind enough to start tackling Primarch's Order, even though it's been finished for months. I can't thank her enough for all the help, advice, and grammar wrangling she's done for me, and I'm so thankful to have met her.
> 
> [Marie_Fanwriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marie_Fanwriter) was kind enough to come to my rescue and offer her invaluable expertise and advice to the first 4000 words of this chapter because, damn, writing adult content is freaking hard! I'm _so_ much happier and more confident with it now and I have her to thank for it. I hope you all enjoy it too.
> 
>  **Content Warning:** Strong sexual content for the first part of this chapter. However, I did include a chapter break for my readers who would rather skip it. Just scroll down to the first break you see, just before, _Shepard chuckled. "Overdid it, huh?"_ and read on from there. :)

 The sound of Shepard’s gasp was laced with pain and pleasure alike as her back impacted the bulkhead. Garrus mumbled an apology in her ear before he chased his words with a gentle nip to the shell.

“S'okay,” was her slurred response as she began to kiss the side of his neck.

He meant to pull away from her, just enough to relieve the pressure on her body as it was pressed between himself and the unforgiving wall, but found himself unwilling. As always, she anticipated his move and decided to change his mind by snaking her hands up the back of his head to caress the oh-so-sensitive spot under his fringe. He almost shoved her against the wall again, but caught himself. She was in no state to be taken so roughly and he was in no... _state_ to try to make it to their cabin. Instead Garrus allowed himself a moment to vent his frustration in the form of a hard breath against her neck. Through it he could feel the vibrations of her chuckle beneath the thin layer of her skin.

Searching for a compromise, he turned his head to the hologram platform. _'That could work.'_

When he turned back to Shepard, he found mischievous eyes, glazed over with lust, had followed his gaze.

“There?” She asked, sounding both surprised and intrigued.

Garrus regained her attention with a quick nip at her throat and confirmed: “There.”

Battle hardened hands slid down Shepard’s body, over her hips to gently cup her backside. Carefully, he lifted her from the floor, making sure to give her muscles time to react. He waited for her to wrap her thighs around his waist and then gasped at the pressure when she did so.

Fuck, that felt good. Damn it, he couldn't wait.

“Take them off.” It was nothing short of a command as he turned around and swiftly carried her to the platform, still mindful to not jostle her.

“That an order, Vakarian?” She taunted, dipping her voice to an octave that always drove him crazy. Shepard knew exactly what she did to him, the smirk sitting neatly on her face reiterated that fact.

Reminding himself to focus, Garrus shifted her weight to free an arm so that he could fumble with the control console to raise the center platform- a feature that was included to expose the wiring underneath for maintenance- and lower the console into the floor, clearing the path of his goal.

At that, Garrus fixed her with a heated look -the one he knew drove _her_ crazy- in response. As predicted -and privately gloried in- Shepard’s reaction was immediate. Nimble fingers flew to the button that secured the front of her pants as she eagerly complied with his request. While her hands were at work, Garrus had to will himself to slow down when he bent to lay her on the platform, taking great care to make sure her spine was aligned while her legs dangled comfortably off the edge. By the time he slid his hands out from under her and pulled back to survey the woman before him, the front of her pants were already flayed open, exposing the stretch of her porcelain navel to him in the most enticing exhibit.

Fortunately, he was able to keep himself from panting like some kind of animal, but he failed at preventing his hands from trembling with _want_.

Once she was comfortable, Garrus stretched out above her to indulge himself in dragging his tongue across the length of her throat while a hand was sent traveling down the flat plain of her stomach. No time was wasted as he slipped his hand passed the opened waistline of her pants to inch beneath her underwear. The pad of a single finger lightly grazed the outside of her impossibly soft folds that were still, regrettably, hidden from view. Garrus tried to stifle his groan at the wetness he felt coating his finger. Really, he did, but the thought that he'd done little more than kiss her and she was already eager and ready for him was a heady one.

“What if-” She tried, but the words were lost in the slow rotation his finger began against the small bundle of nerves just above her entrance.

“‘What if,’ what?” Garrus teased, barely able to keep the amusement out of his undertones.

Shepard tried again. “What if someone h-hears... ah.” With his mouth against her throat, he felt her swallow the moan. “What if someone hears us?”

Tilting his head to the side, Garrus watched the bliss roll over her face as his finger continued its slow circles against her bud. “Are you telling me to stop?” He asked just when he dipped his finger down towards her entrance, knowing her answer already.

“God no,” she breathed and tilted her head back in a delicious -and likely a deliberate- display of her throat.

“Good,” he rumbled, finally pushing his finger inside, careful of his talon, dull as it was, and relished in the resultant gasp she rewarded him with. “Because, as your bondmate, I'm going to show you what you have to look forward to. Today.” Garrus withdrew from her throat to begin slinking down her body, pausing to nip at the soft flesh of her navel. “Tomorrow.” He withdrew his finger to make use of both of his thumbs, hooking them over the loosened waistband of her pants to carefully draw them down her legs, only stopping to pull her boots off along with them and also to nibble at both of her exposed hip bones.

“Garrus,” Shepard whimpered as his hands slowly crept back up from her ankles, choosing a path up the insides of her thighs.

“The next day.” He bent at the knee between her knees and kept his gaze locked onto hers as his mouth began its slow descent upon her, stopping only a few centimeters away. Her breath began to leave her in short, shallow huffs. “For as long as you'll have me.”

Garrus would make sure she'd want no one else.

His long tongue slid up her core, finally tasting her and never breaking eye contact. He had the perfect view to watch the moment her mouth fell open in a soundless cry. Repeating the motion, Garrus drew his tongue along Shepard’s center again, this time creeping his thumbs in from her thighs to lightly tease the junction that framed either side of her core. He pulled his tongue up along her folds one more time before pausing at the top to lightly flick against the swollen flesh located there.

“Think you can keep quiet?” He murmured, forcing an extended vibration into his words to draw out her pleasure.

The Commander only managed a soft, ' _mmhm,'_ in reply. Garrus could accept that. At the return of his finger to her entrance, his chest swelled with a sort of primal satisfaction when Shepard fastened a preemptive hand over her mouth. His mandibles flared into a smirk -he couldn't help it- and only then did he finally press a finger inside of her again.

Shepard's eyes scrunched shut at the sensation and he felt her toes curl against the tops of his thighs where they rested. After giving her a brief moment to adjust, as he always did, Garrus began a slow rhythm with his finger, languidly pumping it in and dragging it out against the spot inside he'd come to know so well. His eyes flickered back and forth between his reappearing finger and the multitude of emotions that washed over Shepard's face in a show that was only for him.

Garrus caressed her walls like the returning lover he was and he felt himself twitch behind his rapidly loosening plates. How he missed the feeling of her walls clenching around his length like they currently were around his finger, but watching the blissful expression on his mate's face, granting her a reprieve from the pain, was just as good in its own way.

The rational part of Garrus’ brain knew she loved him whether he brought her to completion or not. He was her partner both on and off the battlefield. Willing and able to face any challenge that came their way together. But there was another side of his brain that was much simpler than that- more primeval. It wanted to make sure his mate would never seek comfort in another.

Without warning, his mouth fell upon that soft collection of nerves again while at the same time he quickened the pace of the back and forth drag of his finger. As much as Garrus knew they needed to be quiet, he also knew he needed to hear his name on her lips like a prayer. She was his and he was hers.

“Garrus,” she moaned quietly from behind her hand.

“That's it,” he rumbled against her, knowing full well what the vibrations of his voice did to her.

“S-stop.”

Garrus froze with his finger still inside, motionless like a faulty piston. Did he hear that correctly?

“Did you say 'stop'?” Was his intelligent query.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Please.”

That was all he needed to hear. It wasn't at all what he _wanted_ to hear, but he withdrew both mouth and hand all the same. She sighed and relaxed at the sudden loss of contact.

He endeavored to ignore the wound to his pride when he asked: “Was I hurting you?”

“No. Not at all.” That confused him. He shot her a look that told her as much to ask for an explanation. Shepard gave one freely: “I want you inside me.”

His initial alarm at her suggestion made Garrus’ mandibles narrow against his face before he could stop himself.

“Shepard,” he implored, purring her name enticingly while he rested his face against the soft inside of her thigh, nuzzling against the sensitive skin. “I don't think that's a good idea.”

“Please,” she breathed. “I want to try it.” Garrus wondered if she was throwing his old words back at him again. _'I want to try it with you,'_ he had told her. “I can be on top. We'll take it slow.”

Through pinched mandibles, Garrus asked her: “What if I hurt you?”

Shepard pinned him with her gaze as she whispered, with indisputable sincerity that sent his sub-vocals haywire with want. “I trust you. You could never hurt me, Garrus.” He turned his mouth to muffle his groan against the soft flesh of her thigh. “Please.” His indecision lasted about as long as it took for her fingers to find their way to the underside of his fringe again, caressing him tortuously. _Spirits_ , her hands were sinful. He could feel them dismantling both coherent thought and whatever resolve he had left, piece by piece, not unlike what she does to her rifle. His self-control was slipping fast. “Let me fuck you.”

Well, that got his plates open and clean out of his sheath. Garrus repeated the use of Shepard's thigh to stifle his moan, succeeding, but he was woefully powerless to stop the constant tremor his second voice box seemed to be stuck in. Shepard laughed, dragging Garrus' attention from the softness of her skin to the triumphant smirk on her face.

“Your plates just opened, didn't they?” She stated, her eyes alight with mischief. Somehow, from his very warm and pleasant angle between her legs, Shepard looked years younger as she smiled down at him.

"We don't have the oil," he reminded her, caressing the soft skin of her inner thigh to emphasize his point. "You might chafe."

"Well if that's not the sexiest thing I've ever heard." She snorted. "I'll take the risk."

“Here?” He threw in a twist to the question she had posed earlier, while trying not to notice how thick with lust his voice sounded.

“Here.”

And he was on her. In the span of a second, Garrus flew from his position between her legs and hastened up his mate's body to claim her mouth. The feeling of his pants now being the only thing that separated his length from freedom was an uncomfortable and chafing one.

As if reading his thoughts, Shepard took a breath from the heated kiss he'd locked her in to whisper, “Take it off.”

Garrus required no further preamble, though he did briefly pause to make a deliberate show of locking the door even though he already had when he closed it earlier. But Shepard didn't know that.

“Wait.” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Was that unlocked the whole time?”

Spirits, he forgot about all the blood on his clothes until he began stripping it from his hide.

“Garrus!” She hissed at his lack of response and was met by a playful smile. He deposited his soiled shirt unceremoniously to the floor before tackling the clasps of his pants. “That isn't funny. In case you haven't noticed, I'm kind of on full display over here.” His pants joined his shirt, leaving only the discreet, protective suit of underarmor that he'd opted to keep on under his disguise for added protection. She went on as he drew the zipper down the front of his body, exposing his torso to the ranting human. “And you're just smiling as if I have nothing to be... offended... over.” To his unending amusement, her words trailed off at the sight of his cock springing free from its confines when the zipper was finally pulled low enough.

Reactions like that do a little more than merely stroke one's ego. More like, it takes the ego out to dinner, before bringing it home for an hour of undivided foreplay and then proceeding to fuck it sensually on and off throughout the night. Garrus was fully aware of exactly how arrogant his smile must have looked.

“You were saying?” He prompted immodestly at her sudden silence, tilting his head to the side.

Propped up on her elbows, Shepard regained her composure enough to school her wandering gaze away from his throbbing member. With her eyes narrowed into a hard glare on his face, she said, “Shut up and get over here.”

It was strange that it was that moment when Garrus realized his thoughts weren't a tumultuous storm of stress and worry. He wasn't second-guessing his ability to command, or his failure to keep a civilian alive, or the rejection of an old friend. He thought only of the woman splayed out in front of him, glowering at him but with the hint of an amused smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. For a brief snippet of time, Shepard had made him forget all that pained him. She made him feel good and happy and wanted.

He was powerless to stop the chuckle that rumbled from his chest. Shepard's glare deepened at the sound of it, likely misinterpreting his laughter, but before she could sling a retort, Garrus was moving. Quickly, he hastened up and over her body, bracing himself on his elbows and knees atop the platform so that the only part of his body that met hers was the weight of his slick length that came to rest on her stomach. He smiled warmly at the woman below him.

“Sorry it took me so long,” he told her, allowing her to sort out the significance in the double meaning. Judging by the way Shepard's eyes softened and she looked at him in a way he couldn't quite find a word for, he knew she understood. She always understood.

The kiss she planted against his mouth chased away any lingering doubts. It was slow at first, sensual, and even a little sloppy, but it quickly grew heated as their mutual needs reignited anew.

It occurred to him: "Sorry about the blood."

A short burst of laughter ignited from Shepard before it was smothered by a gasp when Garrus ran his hands up underneath her shirt, his long fingers closing around her ribcage. "It's okay." A bit of tit-for-tat as blunt human nails dug into his waist, dragging a wanton groan from him. "You're fresh from the fight. It's kind of hot actually, I got to say."

In a desperate haze to feel the other’s flesh against theirs, the last of Shepard's clothes -those that hid her torso from view- were stripped away. Garrus slid his arms underneath her and then slowly rolled over so that she straddled his hips while he took her place on the durasteel dais. Definitely not the most comfortable place they'd done it, but neither he nor Shepard seemed to be in a mood to complain.

Garrus remained in an upright seated position, still holding the bulk of Shepard's weight in his arms to give her all the time she needed to settle on him comfortably. He was watchful of every wince and twitch to reveal itself on her face.

“We're good?” He all but panted the question. It was amazing how difficult talking became when he felt her wet heat brush against his aching cock.

Shepard took a breath before answering, as if to take a genuine survey of her physical status. “We're good,” she confirmed and then took hold of the front his cowl, allowing him to transfer her weight to one arm so that he could reach down and position himself at her entrance. Slowly, agonizingly, she began to sink down onto him. A task that was thankfully made almost effortless by both their combined lubrication and his earlier ministrations.

The further he entered her, the more he found his thoughts slipping away from him like water in a cupped hand. Garrus had almost forgotten just how good it felt to be inside her and it was all he could do to keep himself from thrusting up into her before she was ready, desperate for relief.

When at long last Shepard was settled on his lap, him fully hilted inside her, it was her that discordantly asked, “You okay?”

Garrus nodded. Well, he thought he did. It was hard to tell with how much his body was trembling.

“You?” He managed.

Shepard replied by reaching to the back of his head. He moaned openly at the recurring sensation of her fingers under his fringe just as she pulled him down for another kiss. After a moment, she pulled away and whispered, “Never better.”

Encouraged, Garrus seized her waist and began to slowly pull her up the expanse of his length, still watching her face for any sign of discomfort. When he saw none, he felt emboldened enough to push her back down on him a little faster. She gasped at the feeling- a familiar sound Garrus knew all too well. It wasn't a sound of pain and as their eyes met, a silent understanding was exchanged between them: They could do this.

Shepard's mouth eagerly found his throat and she nipped at the hide there, causing him to groan before dragging her up his length again and then planting her back down, rougher this time.

“Garrus,” she moaned against his neck, using his hide to stifle the sound, but he heard it like music all the same. It was his favorite song.

He began to thrust up into her, in time with the up and down motion he had set for her hips. It was experimental at first, to monitor how her muscles reacted to the impact of his pelvis, but as her eyes closed and a smile graced her features, he found himself quickly picking up the pace.

Then, in a movement all on her own, Shepard engaged her muscles and rolled her hips, which brought his own motion to a grinding halt. He had to. He was too damn close to rolling her over and just taking her. Shepard, however, was not frozen. With her hands still gripping his cowl for support, she was taking control of not only this encounter, Garrus realized, but of her own body. Tentatively, he released her waist, gradually giving her weight back to her before leaning back on his elbows to simply watch.

Her head was thrown back, baring that beautiful neck to him and her mouth hung slightly open as she emitted soft little whimpers heard only by him. The rolling curves and shifts of her body weren't nearly as fluid as they once were, before her injuries. There was a stiffness Garrus couldn't deny and yet, as the blue lights that ringed the platform illuminated her body, it did nothing to detract from the beauty of the dance she performed on him- for him. Garrus never considered himself a devout believer in the Spirits, but as he watched Shepard move, and felt the electricity she sent through his body as her walls clenched around him, he could almost call himself one. She certainly looked ethereal enough to be called one. Of what embodiment, Garrus couldn't quite place in his current fractured state-of-mind. Power, maybe. Or passion. Freedom.

Liberation.

Suddenly, Garrus sat up, seized her waist again, and then slammed her down on him. Hard. Fortunately, she quickly thought to smother her cry with her hand because Garrus wasn't thinking anymore. He brought his mouth down to her chest to pinch a nipple between the plating of his mouth. It was the only warning she got before he slammed her down on him again. Lost in her, his thrusts only grew more demanding when her hands found that oh-so-sweet spot under his fringe again, silently begging him for more.

Garrus licked a trail from her breast to her clavicle, never ceasing the assault on her body even when he snarled against her throat. A part of him knew he should stop as he felt himself hurdling too close to that enticing edge when he wanted Shepard to jump first. But when he tried he only felt her roll her hips against him in response.

“Shepard,” he tried, shamelessly groaning the name. “I'm-” She silenced him with a kiss, her hips never ending their sinful motion and her fingers only seemed to circle harder against his head.

Then an order, or a plea, carried from her lips on a light breath against his mouth: “Inside.”

He had just enough sense of mind to place his thumb against her clit before his thoughts were obliterated by the onset of his completion. He cried out, only then realizing that Shepard had replaced her mouth with both her hands to dampen the sound. All the while her forehead was pressed against his own as she giggled quietly against the backs of her hands.

Once again, he found himself awestruck by how young and free she looked, eyes smiling jollity at his unintended exclamation. However, the laughter was short-lived as it gave way to small gasps as he writhed beneath her and his cock twitched within its velvety vice, feeling the shock waves from their joining while he spilled himself inside her. Whispered words of encouragement took the place of her giddy laughter, ghosting against his face as his hands scrabbled and clawed at her for purchase.

When he regained enough control to keep himself quiet, Shepard released his mouth and held his face as he clung to her like a lifeline while he rode through the pleasurable swells of the wave she had brought crashing down on him. He couldn't say how long he sat there, curled in on the small human astride his lap, but eventually he slumped back against the platform to bask in nature's reward for a successful copulation.

The _Normandy_ hummed around them as minutes passed, but eventually he was able to take stock of where his limbs were and when he did, he regrettably discovered that his thumb had unwittingly moved away from Shepard's heat. Instead, it found a place at her thigh where it gripped her tightly. Probably too tight if her dimpling flesh was any indication.

Garrus loosened his hold on her thigh and began to rub soothing circles into the bruising flesh. Doctor Chakwas' disapproving frown shoved itself to the forefront of his brain as he examined the damage he'd caused. Definitely not an ideal mental image after his recent excursions. Shepard, on the other hand, didn't seem at all bothered by whatever setbacks he may have caused to her healing body as she began to pepper his face with rapid-fire kisses.

His mandibles flared, smiling stupidly while under her unyielding assault. “That's a nice reaction considering you didn't even...”

Shepard paused in her attack -she had just targeted his nose- and grinned. “That's all right. This was more than enough.”

It wasn't. Despite her tone, genuine though it was, the lines of her body were still taut, needing the release he had yet to give her, something he was determined to rectify. Garrus hammered that point home when he shifted his hips to grind up into her, feeling their combined fluids leak out and down his pelvis as he did so. The action made her visibly shiver, betraying her bluff.

“Ah,” he teased. “'More than enough,' huh?”

“Well,” she grunted at the feeling of the second roll of his hips. “If you're feeling generous.”

Garrus reached for her elbow, beginning there before dragging his talons down her arm to end at her right hand. All the while his pelvis remained constantly rotating against her slick heat.

“Aren't I always?” She didn't answer as he guided her hand down the front of her body, bringing it to rest at the top of her most sensitive spot between her legs, just above their joining. “Touch yourself,” he ordered, his eyes never leaving hers.

It was hardly necessary as she needed no further invitation. Still, he felt dizzy at watching her respond to him so he indulged in a minute or two of simply watching her fingers perform practiced circles against herself. Then, leaving her to her task, Garrus took hold of her hips and began a firm, yet gentle pace. He lifted her slowly up, shivering at the sensation of his now overly sensitive ridges as they glided against her walls before pulling her down against him.

“Garrus,” she whimpered.

“I know,” he soothed, lifting her again. “Keep going.” Shepard did, allowing herself to be snapped down to meet his pelvis again while her finger quickened the circular pattern she drew against herself. She was so close.

Garrus watched her face while he picked up his pace, thrusting up into her with purpose now. He was passed the point of looking for pain, instead only watching for the precise moment she leapt from the edge he was rushing her toward. At one point she closed her eyes, but that wouldn't do. While never ceasing the lift and pull he had her trapped in, he bumped his brow against hers.

“Shepard,” he purred, quickening his pace even further, fucking himself with her body. “Will you look at me?” Heavy eyelids fluttered at his voice, struggling to remain open as he unleashed himself on her the best he could given their position.

His name tumbled softly from her lips along with a string of other words his translator couldn't pick up. 'Fuck,' he was certain, was one of them. While he quietly reminded her to keep her voice down, he had no plans to necessarily make it easier for her. He accentuated that point by nibbling at the racing pulse in her neck.

“Garrus,” she breathed, her voice breaking over the word.

“Good. That's it,” he soothed.

When turians came, they would often emit a distinct buzz for their partner to hear, which always enhanced the experience of bringing satisfaction to a bed mate. Despite lacking the second set of vocals necessary for the task, watching Shepard orgasm had long since secured itself in the number one spot in his mind, as the most beautiful sight he'd ever laid eyes upon. Her mouth always fell open -though she didn't always scream- and her head tipped back to expose her throat as her body dissolved in a fit of convulsions.

Garrus wrapped his arms around the small human as if to hold the pieces together while she fell apart above him. He dragged his tongue along her throat and whispered words he knew he wouldn't remember later, but that didn't matter. Shepard was warm and writhing in his arms again.

Collapsing against him, Shepard panted against his neck. “I'm never going to look at this room the same way again.” That was a sentiment he could agree with, but he felt too drained to express himself beyond an affirmative _'hm.'_ Garrus could, however, manage to drowsily nuzzle her neck as he felt his cock slowly retract to the confines of his sheath. He purred at every inch of sensation caused by her internal musculature that squeezed him as he passed, their pelvises still pressed together.

 

* * *

 

Shepard chuckled: “Overdid it, huh?”

“I should be asking you that,” he mumbled.

“Can't say I won't be sore later,” she admitted with a sheepish smile. “Really sore, but it was totally worth it.”

“Glad to see that you-” Garrus cleared his throat, suddenly bashful. “Enjoyed yourself.”

Grinning, Shepard replied, “It was like reuniting with an old friend.”

“I sincerely hope not.”

“You know what I mean.” Her smile softened as she regarded him with a gentle stare. “I missed this.”

“Me too.” He flared his mandible against her cheek. “At least now I can stop fantasizing about the damn kelp in your fish tank.”

“What?”

“Coffee?”

She spared him a dubious look before the corner of her mouth tugged into a smirk. “Actually, if it's all the same to you, I think some rest is in order. Maybe try out that whole 'sleeping in' thing? I'veheard it's great.” Right. Technically, they were still in the early morning cycle and after the night he had, the thought of curling up around Shepard, warm in their bed, was alluring to say the least. Shepard fixed him with a sideways look. “Or we could go to the med-bay. Don't think I forgot that blow to the head you took.”

“So quick to explain to the good doctor how you got these bruises, huh?” He ran his hands along her thighs, over them.

“Fine. We'll get some rest and then go after. Together?”

Garrus grinned, picturing the two of them fumbling over an explanation for the resurgence of Shepard's soreness to Chakwas. At least he wouldn't be alone in the task. “Together.”

Leaving the comm-chamber was an experience as awkward as Garrus feared. After they got dressed and he helped Shepard back to her chair -regretting every wince she tried to hide along the way- they unlocked the door to a room full of techs staring holes into their screens while suspiciously trying to control their breathing. Surely, their exhilarating jobs of calculating algorithms was what left them winded.They definitely didn't just sprint back to their chairs after having heard their impending reappearance because they had their ear pressed to the door. Hennessy always sat in the south-east chair and didn't just take the seat because it was the closest one he could reach before the door opened. And, most certainly, his computer had just gone to sleep and he hasn't been staring at a blank terminal the whole time.

'It's only as awkward as you make it.' That was the phrase, wasn't it? It was a terrible one and it certainly fell firmly under the category of 'easier said than done.'

Dutifully, he pushed on with Shepard across the room, feeling every set of eyes that covertly peeled off a screen to watch them leave. Then it was a quick traipse through the CIC, followed by a long elevator ride to the cabin wherein they stripped themselves of their clothes. Garrus had to help Shepard, a chore he never minded, before they found themselves together under the expensive sheets that she insisted upon. It was one of the few things, besides the fish and the rodent, she splurged on.

Of course it was after he'd gotten settled under the sheets that Garrus remembered that he still hadn't made it to the shower yet. He excused himself with his approximation of a kiss to her brow before he extricated himself from the bed and moved across the room to the shower. Fortunately, most of the blood had not seeped in beyond the thick layer of his underarmor, leaving the plate and hide beneath it mercifully untouched and clean so the shower was a short one.

When he returned to the bed, Shepard was already asleep, though she stirred and sidled up beside him when he slipped back under the sheets. Once he had resettled, sleep claimed him quicker than Garrus would have thought as he drifted off to the soothing sensation of Shepard's fingers stroking lazily along his scarred maxilla.

Later, when he woke again to the feeling of Shepard pressed snugly against him, he had to carefully disentangle her hair from his mandible. He tried to do it in a way that wouldn't wake the sleeping human, but his attempt proved unsuccessful as he felt her stir. She looked up at him with that sleepy smile on her face that made his heart skip so, naturally, he deferred to humor as a deflection.

“You see this, Shepard?” He spoke with a teasing lilt, using both his hands to vaguely gesture at both their bodies. More specifically, the edge of the bed she had him balanced on. “You see this tiny, little, sliver of bed? This is where Garrus can sleep.” He then waved a hand to the vast expanse of bed Shepard had vacated, ignoring the way her sleepy smile was broadening into a thoroughly amused one. “ _All_ that over there is where-”

“Shepard gets to sleep?” She cut in. “Shall I move over there?”

Garrus answered by pulling her close. “Now, I didn't say that. But...”

“But you'd like us both to scoot over?”

“Please.”

Once they had resettled in the middle of the bed, Garrus drew his talons through her hair. Together, they stared at the blue glow of the fish tank in a sweet, companionable silence only filled by the sound of the tank's rumbling water filter.

“Is this what retirement feels like?” Shepard asked eventually, breaking the quiet. It was a question asked lightly, but therewas a sobering effect to it that made Garrus frown. Shepard caught it before he could cover it up. “Hey, it's all right. I didn't mean it like that.”

He waved her off. “I know. I wouldn't mind retiring now, but...”

Shepard picked up where he trailed off. “The galaxy isn't ready for us to retire.”

“Well, when you say it like that-”

“It's true though. Especially now with the Leviathans. Maybe Victus doesn't know it yet, but he's going to need you.”

“Us,” he corrected. “He's going to need us because he's not getting one without the other.”

“Us, then,” she amended with a smile. “I guess, in a way, it's its own kind of retirement. At least it's a lifestyle devoid of Reapers, right?”

That was something he hadn't considered. His entire relationship with Shepard began and revolved around giant, mechanical insects that crawled from the depths of dark space. Now they had to contend with their creators. So, in a way, they were still rotating around that catalyst, tangled in the chain of events that proceeded it. For a short while, Garrus had thought themselves free. He would work as a Spectre and do his part in helping the newly-formed Council rebuild the galaxy. Then, when Shepard was ready, she would join him. They'd be a team again for a few years and then settle down together for the rest of life's challenges.

Maybe that was too much to hope for.

Garrus pulled her close to him.

Shepard seemed to be on a roll for cheery topics. “So...” He immediately disliked the sound of that 'so.' On the surface it was light, even conversational sounding, but Garrus knew better. “What _did_ you say to your ex when you left? You let her down gently, I hope.” And, of course, he was too late to stop the guilty pinch of his mandibles. Shepard, as always, zeroed right in on it, frowning. “You _did_ say something, right? Oh, Garrus. You didn't...”

“I... was a little distracted at the time.” He didn't need Shepard's wide-eyed stare to inform him of how lame that sounded. “And have been since.”

“ _Since_?” She exclaimed. “Are you telling me you haven't said anything at all to her? Please tell me this is one of those interspecies awkwardness things.”

It wasn't.

“It's not.” He looked away, guiltily.

“Huh.”

“What?”

“I just never thought I'd find myself playing the role of 'the other woman.'” Other woman. That implied a certain 'second rate' mentality that Garrus didn't like. Especially when it was applied to Shepard. He was about to tell her as such when she cut him off. “It's not too late.”

“What do you want me to say, Shepard?” The question was edged with a sharpness he hadn't intended. Still, he went on. “'Sorry I left you for another woman. Can we still be friends?'”

“She had to know who you were, right? Our relationship wasn't exactly a secret.”

“She... She knew about you.”

“Then, don't you think she'd understand, now that she probably knows I'm alive? At least she'll have a little closure.”

Point him at a target, he'd kill it. Set him up to the right of the Primarch, he'd offer sound strategical advice. Navigate relational waters with all the people and feelings shaded in gray, well, that was something he had never quite mastered. He was learning, he'd argue, but he was still very much a student in the field. Shepard was the charismatic one.

“It's that simple, huh?”

“It's up to you, Garrus. But if I was this girl-” She laid a hand against his scarred mandible. “-And this handsome face up and left me one day, I'd sure like to know why.”

It took him a day or so to work up the courage and, even when he had, he still felt more nervous than he did on his first mission as a Spectre. And he ended up having to work it up again when she didn't answer and so he tried again, a couple days later, when they were next near a comm-buoy. Again, his call went ignored. It was on the fifth try, weeks after the conversation with Shepard, that she finally took his call.

Any comfort he had garnered in the hope that she would likely ignore him again vanished at the sight of her face. She looked well, all chrome plates and bright, hazel eyes, but his was definitely not a face she was pleased to see.

“Uh... Hey, Cybele. How've you been?” Nailed it.

She said nothing.

Feeling the heat rise at the back of his neck, Garrus laid a hand there as if to cool the stress that was building. “You look... good?” Damn it. That wasn't supposed to be a question.

The words seemed to weigh down on her when she slowly asked, “What do you want, Garrus?”

Garrus' mandibles pinched against his jaw and he glanced down at his hands atop his desk while he searched for words. “To apologize, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“No! Yes. Look. I'm sorry for leaving the way I did. Without even-”

“A goodbye?” The comm did nothing to hide the sad thrum of her sub-vocals and his trilled a second apology in reply.

“I wasn't thinking,” he began. “When I got the message that Shepard was alive and that I needed to go to Earth I didn't stop. I didn't hesitate. I didn't... Think. I just went.”

“And since then? It's been months, Garrus.”

“I know.” He made a helpless gesture with his hands. “I don't have an excuse for that. I'm sorry.” He didn't know what else to say. 'Can we still be friends' almost came out, but he caught it. It sounded too rehearsed.

Cybele was quiet for a moment while her eyes searched his face. Perhaps looking for any tell of insincerity. “I liked you. A lot. I didn't even know you had gone anywhere until I didn't hear from you for a few days. Then I saw the news and it all made sense. No wonder you left. What's a girl to do when she has to compare to Commander Shepard?” He winced at that, and also at the painful flare of her mandibles, though she tried to hide the action with a cough. A part of him was tempted to end the call then and there. But then, true to character, Cybele took pity on him as she had several times throughout the course of their short relationship. He remembered that she was somewhat protective over him when they were together, of both his feelings, his ego, and his actual person when reporters would come snooping around. “You're a nice guy, Garrus Vakarian. And as much as you hurt me, I know it wasn't your intention.” Her mandible fluttered into a cautious smile. “I appreciate that you called.”

The unsaid 'finally' rang thickly in the air, but Garrus ignored it.

“And I appreciate you taking it. You-” Garrus was cut off by a sudden noise in the background. A loud sigh of relief reverberated from somewhere behind Cybele in the location Garrus knew was the entrance to her apartment. It was muffled only slightly by the sound of rustling plastic.

“Spirits, it's good to be home.” It was another male turian, by the sound of it. A pile of plastic bags, stamped with the logo of an overpriced grocery chain that claimed to be healthier than all its competitors, came walking in on a pair of heavily muscled turian legs. Sina, Cybele's overprotective varren that, for some reason, never quite liked Garrus got up from her revealed spot beside her mistress' chair and went bounding happily over to the walking pile of grocery bags. “Down, girl. I'm happy to see you too.” The other turian disappeared behind the wall that separated the living room from the kitchen, cautiously stepping around the excited varren as he went.

Cybele had turned around in her chair to watch the other turian enter. When she turned back to Garrus and saw the curiosity in his eyes, she provided, “Veselin-”

“Yeah, babe?” The other turian called cheerily from the kitchen, having heard his name. 'Babe.' That was a term typically used by humans. Clearly, this turian has spent a bit of time off Palaven.

“I'm talking to a friend!” She called back. “I'm telling him about you!”

“Oh. Good things, I hope!”

“So far I've just gotten your name in!”

“Sounds like you're off to a good start then!” The sound of plastic jugs meeting a marble surface, then, “Protein shake?”

“No, I'm good!”

“Is that a chocolate no or a vanilla no?”

A bright grin spanned the width of Cybele's flared mandibles before she replied, “A chocolate no!”

“Gotcha!”

Cybele turned back to Garrus as the sound of a blender buzzed in the background. “We met at the park... four months ago?”

“And he's... good to you?” Garrus asked tentatively, knowing just how hypocritical the question sounded coming from a guy who had up and left her out of the blue.

Surely, Cybele would have noticed, but she was never one to viciously point out someone's flaws. She gave Garrus a gentle smile and said, “He is. And Sina likes him.” She added the last part as if the approval of her varren was the ultimate test one needed to pass if they wanted to be Cybele's boyfriend. Maybe the beast knew that Garrus' heart wasn't with her mistress and that he would likely break hersin turn. Turns out, the varren was right about him. Garrus found himself privately hoping she was correct about Veselin as well.

“That's good. And _you_ like him?”

As if to answer her question, a ball went flying from the kitchen with a gray streak zipping out after it. Any lingering coldness in her eyes warmed when she said, “Yeah. I do.”

By that point, Sina had returned the ball to the kitchen and the other male- Veselin, called out. “I still have to get my cardio in today. Mind if I take Sina for a run?”

“Sure!” Cybele called back. “She'd love that.”

Then a pair of bright, golden eyes set in a tawny face with tan plates peered around the kitchen wall. He had white tattoos lining the lower half of his face as well as his forehead. He was handsome, Garrus would give him. Maybe too handsome. Unabashedly, he gave Cybele a heated look from across the room. “Would the lady like to join?”

“She would!” Cybele responded, modestly trying to hide the answering purr in her subvocals. “Let me say goodbye.”

“Awesome!” The other turian exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. “I'll put your shake in the fridge.” He disappeared behind the wall again.

“Good,” Garrus continued. “You deserve it.”

“So do you,” Cybele replied, almost earnestly. “I really do appreciate you calling me. I'm... relieved to see you looking so well.”

 _'Compared to how you saw me before,'_ he privately thought.

“Staying safe?” She added. By now, news of his Spectre status was no longer a secret, especially after his introduction in that crowd of reporters as he carried the recovered Commander Shepard back to the _Normandy_.

“About as well as can be expected,” he admitted.

“Coming from Garrus Vakarian himself, I'll take that-”

Sina went bounding to the door with Veselin at her heels, leash in hand. “Hold on, girl!”

Watching Veselin snap the leash on the varren, whose excitement could barely be contained, Garrus thought it was best to end the call now, to allow Cybele to return to the happy life he'd walked away from. It could have been him going for a run with her, settling down with her, nipping at the iridescent colors on her facial plates provided by the sunlight that shone through her bedroom window in the mornings. It could have been him that she'd eventually have biological children with, raising them together safely on the surface of theirhomeworld.

Quickly, Garrus scanned his surroundings, taking in the cabin around him. Blue light from the fish tank bathed all that Garrus held dear in a neon luminescent while the comforting white noise of the water filter hummed soothingly around him. Shepard was currently in the med-bay undergoing another bought of physical therapy, but the sheets on the bed were still ruffled by their recent -and increasingly more fervent- lovemaking. He would have had to disentangle her hair from his mandibles when he woke up. The smell of sex hung in the air, mixed with the scent of gun oil from the nearby workbench. Upon the surface lay their Widows, side by side not unlike their owners did just a few feet away. Beside him was a stack of datapads, the contents of which more tedious than the last. Behind him was where they danced, her feet on his toes while he maneuvered them in slow circles right after informing her of his father's approval.

All that he cared about, all that meant most to him and made him _him_ was just one hull breach away from disappearing. It certainly wasn't a perfect existence, but Garrus wouldn't have it any other way.

“I'll let you go,” he told his ex. “Take care, Cyb.”

“You too, Garrus. Good bye.”

Later, when Shepard returned sweaty and frustrated from her session with Chakwas, Garrus would take her hand and guide her to the shower. There, he would drop to his knees and show his mate just what she meant to him.

 

* * *

 

Next stop was Rannoch.

The _Normandy_ was about a day out from the planet, but they were well within the newly-repaired comm-buoy's range. Garrus knew that he should take the opportunity to check in with the Council, to at least let them know the location of one of their Spectres. But as he sat down at his desk and opened up his terminal, he found himself mildly surprised that it was his father's contact he searched for.

Spirits, when was the last time they had even spoken?

A sense of urgency began to worm its way into his thoughts, tightening the muscles in his arms and neck. Memories of Victus, with his mandibles pinched against his face as he sought his glass to drink the tension from his body, came unbidden to his mind. Most nights he controlled himself, but there were times when Garrus had to help him home, though he doubted if he remembered.

 _'That was Victus,'_ he told himself. _'Not dad.'_

Several more seconds passed.

 _'Dad isn't alone with this job like he was. He has a support system in Solana.'_ Victus only had him, for all the good it did him.

Another five seconds went by and Garrus realized the futility of trying to convince himself of the safety of his father's mental well-being. He was the Primarch of Palaven- a job Garrus knew that his father wanted as little as he did. Sure, Adrien had to rebuild where his father need only pick up where he left off, but surely that wouldn't make his position any less stressful. It didn't reduce the sheer amount of people that depended on him to make the correct decisions. It certainly wouldn't leave him with fewer enemies to worry about.

Garrus tried to ignore the passage of time by listening to the breaths Shepard took as she slept in their bed nearby. It was late, and thanks to his- er... help, she had found sleep fairly easily tonight. As tempted as he was to join her -especially after she returned the favor- he knew he had a call to place. Thankfully, the person he ended up calling was in the middle of the day in his time zone.

Three minutes and twenty seconds of waiting was right around the time Garrus was trying to stave off mental images of his father lying dead in a pool of his own blood after a successful assassination- a sniper, no doubt. Wouldn't that be fitting?

Castis Vakarian's face flickered onto his screen.

“Dad.” Garrus just managed to swallow the relieved sigh that threatened to leave him.

“Garrus, sorry. I was just in a meeting.”

“If it's a bad time-”

“No!” The ferocity of his quick objection seemed to surprise even Castis himself. Clearing his throat, he said, “No. We were just finishing. How are you? You look well.” For a split second, Garrus was ten years old talking with his father through vid-comm with solar systems between them. They were both older now, true, but Garrus wanted to know how his father's work was going and Castis was tense with stress and fatigue, but therewas a light in his eye as he looked upon his child. The only difference was, back then, Garrus didn't see that light for what it was. He had interpreted it as a strict father wanting to know all the ways his son could have disappointed him while he was gone. It's only now that he recognized it as the same light he had seen in Victus' eyes on more than one occasion when he spoke fondly of Tarquin.

It was never disappointment.

Garrus ran a quick hand along the length of his fringe and, fighting through a sudden tightness in his throat, he replied, “Wish I could say the same. You look like hell.”

A weary smile. “I feel it.”

“Dad...”

“I'm all right, Garrus,” he assured him. “I'm no stranger to stress. You know that. I take things one day at a time. Spirits know Solana won't let me forget.” Garrus opened his mouth to argue further, but he was silenced by a raised hand. “Everything's fine. I'm more interested in hearing what you've been up to.”

That was a tricky question. As a Spectre, he served the Council now. Not the Hierarchy. Every one of his missions were considered classified even to a Primarch, but that wasn't what stopped him from discussing with his father just whathe'd encountered in the mine. Garrus still pictured Bernard's dead face, a mark of his failure to save an innocent person that depended on him. And as much as he'd relish some fatherly advice of which, on reflection, he should have sought more of in the past, their line was not a secure one, though he need not explain that fact to his father.

Instead, he talked about his crew, which lead to a vague discussion of his leadership and stepping into Shepard's role. That, inevitably, led to the topic of Shepard herself. Speaking of which, her slow, even breathing had gone silent. She was awake then.

To his father's credit and to Garrus' mild surprise, Castis remained conversational, even interested in what Garrus had to say despite his views on his new career.

“For as much as I've heard about this Commander Shepard, why is it I've yet to meet her?” Castis reclined in his chair and gave his son a sharp look.

Garrus looked down at his hands, feeling Shepard's eyes upon him from across the room, through the opaque glass adorned with her model ships. She kept her turian frigate displayed just above the centerpiece, the _Normandy_ SR-2 _,_ as if the cheap plastic somehow preferred the close proximity of the other. Before answering, he looked up between the _Normandy_ SSV and _The Destiny Ascension_ and caught her eyes as she sat up in bed.

Looking back down at the screen, Garrus explained, “She was in bad shape when they found her, Dad. For once the news isn't exaggerating too much about her in that regard- surprising, I know. It's been a long recovery.” It wasn't exactly a lie. While it was true that Shepard's health had left her with even less of an interest in social affairs these days, there was the little factor of Garrus wanting to avoid his shunned ex back on Palaven that played a small part in deterring his return, though that wasn't something he was about to admit out loud. On top of that, he was just plain busy with his new career path. “She's getting stronger every day though. I think we can make a stop at Palaven soon. I know she'd like to meet you too.”

Garrus glanced over at the human in question just in time to catch the smile that appeared on her face.

“Then bring her over to the screen.” Her smile was obliterated in the wake of those words. She shot him a reproachful look and was already shaking her head when his father went on, “I know she's nearby.”

Shepard mouthed something at him, too quietly for his translator to pick up. If he had to guess, he'd say it was the word, 'no.' Maybe even, 'I can't.' It was almost enough to make Garrus consider lying on her behalf, to say she was sleeping, but that would only look worse, wouldn't it? Clearly, his father knew she was nearby and there was no use lying to Castis Vakarian.

“She needs a little help walking. Give me a minute?”

“Of course.”

As Garrus stood from his chair and crossed the room to their bed, Shepard had become more animated in her refusal. She was shaking her head harder and only gave voice to her concerns when he kneeled down before her.

“No. Please, Garrus. Not now,” she pleaded, her voice hushed and eyes wide in concern.

“Why not?” He asked quietly.

“Look at me.” Shepard gestured to herself as if the answer was obvious. “I only get one chance at a good first impression. I don't want meet him like... like this.”

“Why not?” He repeated the question gently. “He's only going to see what I see.” He reached a hand up to cup the side of her face, pausing long enough to give her the option of moving away. When she didn't, his palm found her cheek, the length of his hand lining the side of her head. “A person that was willing to sacrifice herself for the good of the galaxy. A survivor that's striving to overcome the cost of that decision. Yeah, you're crazy and he's going to see that too.” Garrus paused to lean in and press his mouth against her brow, not missing the way she sucked in a breath as he did so. The flexible plates around his mouth brushed against her forehead when he rumbled, “But he's also going to see the woman his son chose as his life partner.” Garrus drew away to take in her face, catching the way her eyes had scrunched before she released the tension on the muscles there and looked at him. “Will you please come meet him?”

For a moment, she held his stare and in her eyes he could see every indecision, every worstcase scenario, play across their depths. Shepard never had a family so the thought of meeting his, of being accepted by his, must be the most daunting thing she's had to experience since she was pulled from the wreckage of the Citadel.

“What if he doesn't like me?” She gave voice to the fears he knew were swimming in that head of hers.

“Trust me.” Garrus reached for her hands with both of his. “He will.”

Shepard looked away from him to cast her gaze across the room at the terminal that sat glowing on the desk. She was quiet for several heartbeats before she drew in a deep breath to steel herself, eyes never leaving the terminal, before she relented. “Okay. Help me up?”

Garrus grinned and released the breath he didn't know he was holding before he went to work, gently pulling her from the bed and supported her weight while she found her feet. As they began their slow march across the room, his heart began to race with anticipation. He was about to introduce his girlfriend to his father, something he had never done before. Sol had met Cybele a couple times, but that was only because she happened to show up at his apartment while she was there. Any relationship he managed to secure for himself was either too fleeting or his father was simply away at work at the time.

When they made it to the steps, Garrus was pleased to see Shepard tackle them, for the most part, on her own. She kept a hand on his shoulder for some support and he kept his arm hovering, without touching, around her waist just in case she tripped, but she didn't. At the top of the steps, a smile threatened to tug at her mouth for the seemingly mundane achievement. If Garrus had to guess, he'd say it was the confidence boost she needed in order to face down her latest threat- The future in-law.

With the screen and, by proxy, his father still facing away, Shepard took a second to smooth her hair with her hands and run her index fingers along the underside of her eyes. 'Gotta check for eyeliner runoff,' she had explained to him once. When she looked up at him one last time, a question in her eyes, he tried and failed to hide the witless grin from his face. It wasn't that he was taking any enjoyment out of her nervousness. It was that his stupid heart was thundering in his chest at how much she cared.

It would seem that Shepard was as happy with her appearance as she was going to be. After Garrus flashed what he hoped came across as an encouraging smile, she rounded the corner and sat down in the chair.

“Ah. Commander,” Castis Vakarian greeted, his mandible flared in amusement. “We meet at last.”

Garrus covertly glared at his father from over Shepard's head. She was already nervous enough and Garrus knew, for a fact, that former Detective Vakarian would have easily picked up on it. Not that he was an expert, but even Garrus knew that now wasn't the time for formalities, even in jest. If his father noticed the withering look being directed at his head, he didn't acknowledge it as he had eyes only for Shepard.

Said human was stiff as a board in her seat. Her hands were clenched beside her thighs as she tersely replied, “Yes, sir. It's good to meet you finally. I've heard so much.”

Spirits, she really was scared. A woman who faced down a Reaperon foot was truly terrified about making a good first impression to his father. He could almost see the gears turning behind her eyes, going through every strict Alliance protocol so that she could come off as professional as possible. He had to wonder how close she was to snapping off a damn salute.

He laid a hand on her shoulder, hoping she could take some comfort in the touch. “Only good things, Dad,” he chimed.

“I'm sure.” Oddly, something about his father's sarcastic remark made Shepard's shoulder drop slightly beneath his touch. Relaxed.

Her reaction was explained when she commented, “Sarcasm.” She then looked up at Garrus and flashed a smile, her flat teeth aglow in the terminal's light. “Like father, like son.”

Apparently the way to Commander Shepard's heart was with a dry sense of a humor and a grim sense of self-awareness. No wonder she attached herself to a guy like him.

A dual-tonedchuckle emitted from the computer. When Garrus and Shepard turned toward the noise, they were met with softened eyes. It would seem that Castis Vakarian's little game -or maybe a test?- was over. It was the warmth that Garrus heard in his tone when he next spoke that told him that, like so many before him, Commander Shepard had won him over with just a few little words.

“He had to get it from somewhere, didn't he?”

“The voice too,” she confirmed, relaxing a little more in her seat to lean closer to the screen. “You look so similar.”

“I hope that's a compliment,” Castis quipped. “Because this is the face you have to look forward to in another decade or two.”

Acceptance. A welcomed future. That's what that meant and, by the glow of Shepard's grin, she interpreted it that way too.

“It was,” she confirmed, nodding. Unclenching her fists, Shepard smoothed the tension from her hands along the tops of her bare thighs. She was wearing the soft, silk shorts he liked. They felt amazing against his mandibles when he'd rest the side of his face on her hips right before hooking his talons in the hem and - _'Focus, Garrus.'_ Shepard continued with, “I'm sorry. I guess I'm a little nervous.”

“A little?” His father sallied, making Garrus want to reach through the screen and slap him. At least, that was his initial thought before Shepard huffed a laugh, clearly unaffected by the comment.

“Okay, yeah. You got me.” Then the floodgate opened. “I'm very nervous. I know how you feel about Spectres and the fact that Garrus _is_ one now probably doesn't win me any points and we're only meeting now even though we've been together for a while and I know I'm probably not exactly what you'd want for your son, which I completely understand, but-”

“My dear.” Castis swooped in to cut off the flood of her words before any more could spill from her mouth. He wielded a tone far gentler than even Garrus would have expected. “You have nothing to worry about from me. I understand that I have you to thank, on more than one occasion-” Castis' eyes flickered to the scarred side of Garrus' face. “-For allowing me to see my son alive again.” Garrus watched as Shepard drew in a deep breath and he almost missed the sight of her eyes moistening before her tears were stubbornly blinked away. “True, this isn't exactly what I pictured for Garrus, _but_ -” Castis rushed to cut Garrus off before he could interject. “I can't say that I'm disappointed either. It truly is an honor to meet you, Commander.”

“Shepard is fine,” she told him, obviously reining in her elation and relief at his father's acceptance.

“Then you can call me Castis. I'll have none of that 'sir' nonsense. Not from family.” Garrus wasn't sure how much his father knew of Shepard's past. He likely had a fair understanding from her public records, as most of the population did, but he had to wonder if he knew just how much of an impact that word, 'family,' had on Shepard. To her credit, she soldiered through the wave of emotion he knew had hit her at the usage of it, but she definitely beamed a little wider.

“Yes, si- Castis. Sorry.” She smiled sheepishly. “I'm not too good at this.”

“Trust me.” Castis shot a pointed look at Garrus. “I'm used to it.” Returning his gaze to Shepard, he went on. “It's late where you are,so I'll let you go. It was wonderful finally meeting you, Shepard. I hope we can meet in person soon. Some of Garrus' fledgling pictures survived the war. If you're interested, I'd like to share them with you.”

That horrific thought caused Garrus to groan, but Shepard ignored him. “I'd love that.”

“Wait a minute,” Garrus tried to protest.

“Garrus,” his father wheeled on him, uncaring of his discomfort. “You'll give her my contact info, won't you?”

“I...” _'Not now I won't,'_ he wanted to scream, but seeing the joy on Shepard's face stifled his argument, a fact that would certainly not escape his father. Through gritted teeth, he answered, “Sure.”

“Excellent. Take care, you two. Good night.”

“Good night!” Shepard answered way too enthusiastically. How could this conversation have gone so wrong?

“'Night, Dad,” Garrus managed before he flickered from view.

Later, as Garrus lay still in bed, trying to find sleep despite his anxiety of what his girlfriend would think when she saw those pictures, Shepard's voice shattered his efforts when she suddenly gasped. Garrus rocketed up and turned to find her smiling at her omni-tool, which could only mean one thing.

“Is that _you_ under all that fluff? You were so cute!”

He had sent the pictures already.

 

* * *

 

Besides the essential radio chatter with the docking station, Joker was uncharacteristically silent as he brought the _Normandy_ down through Rannoch's atmosphere. Considering all the giant ships from the Flotilla that were unable to ground, the quarians had set up quite the efficient docking station for smaller shuttles that ferried people from land to space.

They could have made use of the Kodiak, which would have saved their pilot a big headache in bringing their giant frigate smoothly into atmo, but the _Normandy_ was capable of planetside landings even if it wasn't necessarily optimal. Besides, taking a Kodiak would have meant leaving Joker behind with the ship, which Garrus knew wasn't an option. Not for this trip.

Garrus stood behind Joker's seat, watching the grounding stations grow larger and larger through the viewport of the cockpit. EDI's chip sat idle beside the human within the safety of a recently, and rather thoroughly, cleaned out cup holder. Every now and again Joker would steal a quick glance down to it.

 _Spirits_ , for Joker's sake Garrus sincerely hoped this wasn't a waste of time. He was beginning to question his choice for even bringing the knowledge of it to his helmsman in the first place when a familiar voice rang out over the comm.

“ _Normandy_ , this is Admiral Tali'Zorah vas Normandy.”

“Tali?” Garrus grinned. “It's Garrus.”

“Garrus?” He could hear the smirk in her voice. “I'm pretty sure it's Spectre Vakarian now?”

“Only to my bosses and to those that need killing.”

“I wasn't made aware of my promotion to 'boss,'” was her playful reply.

“No? I'm sure I sent the memo last week. Zaal'Koris stepped down as Quarian Councilor and put you in charge.”

“Keelah, don't say that. Not even as a joke, _Garrus_.”

“It's good to hear your voice too.”

Joker had no choice but to bring the _Normandy_ down on a large, graded piece of hard-packed ground as she was too big for any of the docking bays they had available yet. Shepard wanted to walk using her cane, but ultimately decided that her chair was still her best option for traversing the uneven terrain of Rannoch's construction sites, of which were numerous and unavoidable. Together, they met with Miranda and Joker in the shuttle bay. Though she had little to do with EDI's creation, the ex-Cerberus operative still held invaluable knowledge that Garrus hoped would make this process go as smooth as possible. By the nervous look on Joker's face, he undoubtedly felt the same way. He kept furtively dipping a hand inside the pocket of his khaki shorts, constantly affirming to himself the contents of it.

When the cargo ramp lowered, they spotted Tali waiting for them outside. She was leaning up against the side of a large land cruiser, purple-clad arms folded across her chest, looking all the world like someone who was extremely proud of their new ride. Even if that ride was an over-sized, durasteel land rover that has definitely seen better days. It was a large gray thing that must have been white at one time, but years of traversing harsh environments had stripped the paint unevenly to reveal the armor beneath it. Undoubtedly a vehicle that had found a new home with its quarian mistress after many owners before it. Clearly, obtaining used land rovers, instead of ships, was becoming a top priority for the colonizing quarians.

Shepard had rolled herself about halfway down the ramp, when Tali pushed herself away from the metal monstrosity and rushed to embrace the human. From there it was a thirty minute ride over rocky terrain to the nearest geth facility. Tali's land cruiser was outfitted with three cloth bench seats, altogether capable of shuttling nine people in the vehicle. The seats looked fairly unused with dust dulling the gray _-or were they blue?-_ color. When Tali wasn't looking, Garrus gave his spot an experimental pat and watched the resultant particles fly into the air. Lovely. He deduced that they were probably sitting in storage somewhere and only recently installed, likely removed previously for the sake of space to haul building material.

Thankfully, with only five of them in the cruiser, there was plenty of room to stretch out. Tali was at the wheel, which Garrus was silently grateful for, not that he'd say so in front of Shepard. The aforementioned human had called 'shotgun' -A phrase he had learned during the SR-1 days- before anyone else could claim the front passenger seat. Garrus took the spot directly behind Shepard with Miranda sharing the bench with him, though the seat in the middle remained empty. In the back, directly behind him and with the bench all to himself, Joker sat quietly.

Garrus wondered if it was intentional so that it would be harder for him to turn around and look at him. Every now and again, at the edge of his peripheral vision while Garrus had his head turned to look out the window, he'd catch movement from Joker. It was hard to tell, but Garrus strongly suspected that he was checking to make sure his precious cargo was still safely aboard in his pocket.

“Vas Normandy, huh?” Shepard must have picked up on the heavy silence because she made use of her 'icebreaker tone.' “Thought you would have changed it to 'vas Rannoch' by now.”

Tali groaned.

“Did I say something wrong?”

The quarian shook her hooded head. “No. Sorry. You might be surprised to learn that the choice of keeping 'vas' and 'nar' is a bit of a controversial one these days.”

“Nope. Not surprised at all,” Shepard replied without missing a beat.

Neither was Garrus. He was there to witness the court proceedings of the quarians during Tali's so-called 'trial.' It would seem that some things truly never changed. After seeing that kind of chaos and strife, he developed a private appreciation for the admittedly flawed, yet still incredibly efficient, Hierarchy. The Advisory had a voice, of course, but any and all arguments could and would be swiftly silenced by the Primarch's final say.

“Well,” she began after taking a vented breath. “Some of us believe that it would be in everyone's best interest to put our past completely behind us because it alludes to our bygone conflicts with the geth. They say that if we want to coexist, we should cast aside all that reminds us of why we were at war in the first place. The pilgrimage, our names, our suits; it's all because of our war with them- and where did this _bosh'tet_ learn to drive?!” Tali gestured angrily at the red-suited quarian that was driving apparently too slow for her liking.

Garrus leaned forward to glance at the dash in front of their driver, reading 145 kph.

“Seriously!” Shepard avidly agreed, glaring at the other quarian while they zoomed past. It was only then that he realized his horrible mistake and remembered just who had taught Tali to drive. Suddenly, he wasn't so grateful for the seating arrangements.

“On the other hand,” Tali went on after an affronted scoff once the slow-driving wrongdoer became a dot in her mirror. “Some believe that even with the geth's help with our immune systems, they want to continue wearing the suits even after we won't need to. 'It's too ingrained in our culture to just drop now.'” An impersonation. Likely of Tali's aunt, if Garrus had to guess. Aunt Raan, was it? Turning her still-masked face to them briefly, she quickly added, “Obviously, we're not at that point yet. But there is the idea of keeping their ship names to pass on to future generations. A reminder of the ship their ancestor used to return to the homeworld. Technically, the _Normandy_ was mine.”

“So you agree on keeping your customs,” Shepard observed.

Tali's mask turned down to her hands, making Garrus feel the itch to remind her that she was still careening down a dirt road at a lethal speed. “I'm... not sure. I see the argument on both sides. _Keelah_ , I know I won't miss this damn suit, but... I'm not ready to give up the _Normandy._ ”

Garrus could sympathize. “Neither was I,” he affirmed. Both he and Tali turned their heads to look at Shepard, whom sat red-faced in her seat before bashfully waving them off.

Even Miranda wasn't immune to the sentiment, though she wasn't quite as outward about it. Still, Garrus didn't miss the private smile she spared before her face turned away to take in the rolling scenery outside her window. Joker, however, was still silent. Sneaking a glance, Garrus spotted him staring intently down at his pocket. Of course, 'giving up the _Normandy_ ' held a vastly different implication to him.

When they - _safely_ \- arrived at the facility, Garrus helped Shepard into her chair and was about to leave the vehicle when he found himself pinned in place by the stern gaze she was leveling up at him.

“Forgetting something, Vakarian?” She asked, quirking a reddish-blonde eyebrow.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

She held out a pale hand expectantly. “Hand it over.”

Damn it. Sometimes having an infiltrator girlfriend came with some drawbacks. For one, few things escaped Shepard's notice. And he thought he was being careful too. Earlier, Tali had requested over the comm link, while they were descending through the atmosphere, to leave all weapons behind. “The Admiralty has agreed that when we go to their facilities, we do so without weapons as a show of good faith,” she explained to them.

Even Shepard was initially leery at the suggestion, which made Garrus even more skittish. But she had consented all the same. “For all the blood we've spilled fighting them, Garrus, the quarians have lost a lot more,” she had reasoned while in the cargo hold. “I don't like it any more than you do, but if they can put their guns down here, so can we.”

'Spectre Authority' may cut through ribbons upon ribbons of red tape, but Garrus was quickly learning that it only got so far when talking to another Spectre. Even less so when the other Spectre was your significant other. With his eyes narrowed, he relented, but not without compromise.

“Fine.” He unholstered his hidden sidearm and tossed it into the car. “But I'm keeping my armor _and_ shield generator on.”

“That's fair,” she agreed readily, but just when Garrus thought it was safe to leave, she stared pointedly at the compartment located in his chest, adding: “The other one too.” Damn her. He discarded that one as well, perhaps with a little more force than necessary. “Also the daggers.” Reluctantly, he withdrew them from both his boots. “And the grenades.  Don't even think about bringing in those sticky mines. Probably leave the smoke bombs as well.” Garrus turned away from the growing pile of deadly devices to glare at Shepard whom, in turn, met his gaze with wide-eyed innocence.

“Why don't I just leave my omni-tool as well, huh?”

“Easy there, Vakarian. Don't go too kumbaya on me.”

Ignoring the blip in his translator, Garrus replied. “In fact, let me just take all of this off-” he gestured to his armor-clad body. “-And just go in stark naked. Good thing I dulled my talons recently, wouldn't want to scratch their chrome.”

Shepard wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “ _Mmm._  Don't tempt me with a good time.”

That almost pulled a smile from him. Then he remembered how annoyed he was now that she had completely stripped him of what he thought were well-concealed weapons. He subsequently schooled his face back into a glower. “May we go now?”

Beaming triumphantly at him, she acquiesced, “Please, lead the way.”

Finally leaving the land rover, Garrus and Shepard moved to join the rest of their party. They all stood waiting at the entrance of the facility, the steel door hanging opened behind them. Underneath her mask, Garrus just _knew_ Tali was smirking at him as they made their way inside. However, that thought was quickly abolished in favor of the large red geth prime that materialized from somewhere and was making its way towards them. Garrus found himself instantly mourning the missing weight of his Widow. He had every intention of bringing her too, even shined her for the occasion.

Garrus bent to whisper covertly into Shepard's ear, his eyes never straying from the approaching prime. “If this goes ass up and I find out you had a piece on you the whole time, you and I are going to have a serious talk.”

“Noted.”

Now, standing completely unarmed before the giant geth, of which they've killed many of, he could only nervously watch as the flashlight positioned high on its head swiveled first to the red-headed human. The fact that Tali looked completely unfazed by the prime's presence was only a small consolation.

 _“Shepard-Commander,”_ boomed the deep, electronic voice. Countless colorful dots from the thousands of blinking lights that covered the walls around them shifted and moved along the geth's smooth, red surface. _“You are welcome here. Do you need assistance?”_

Shepard blinked, composing herself before she answered, “Thank you. And yes, we were hoping you could help us out with something. I assume you- er,” she tilted her head slightly to the side. “All of you, I should say, remember our AI friend on the _Normandy?_ Legion knew her.”

The flaps atop the flashlight seemed to... draw inward, as if to give the impression of deep thought. The action was probably intentional. _“We have various records and files of the artificial intelligence installed on your ship. It was labeled the Enhanced Defense Intelligence.”_

 _“Her.”_ Joker heatedly corrected, finally breaking his silence. “And her name was EDI... _Is_ EDI.”

 _“EeeDee.”_ The flashlight head... nodded? _“We have record of that designation as well.”_

“Joker?” Shepard turned her attention to the only male human in the room, decidedly ignoring his snappish retort and gave him an expectant look.

Joker's eyes flickered reproachfully between Shepard and the giant geth. Then, reluctantly, he fished the chip out of his pocket and slowly approached the towering AI. He hesitated for a second, his thumb caressing the plastic in his hand, before he carefully placed it in the opened metal palm that had extended to him.

The geth prime turned away with Joker's eyes tracking its every move. It then seemed to pick a wall and approached it. Like a living organism, they watched as a cable came snaking out of the wall to meet the giant. The geth took hold of the cable and attached the chip to the end of it before allowing the cord to retract back into the wall, disappearing behind a panel.

Shepard wheeled herself towards the colossal construct. “So, about how long will it take to-?”

 _“Complete,”_ it reported.

“Already?” Shepard blinked up at the geth. “That was quick.”

“Hello, Shepard.”

Everyone in the room whipped around at the sound of that oh-so familiar voice. She no longer had a body to inhabit, so the appearance she took was the blue, holographic orb Garrus knew her as when he first boarded the SR-2 _,_ but it was her. It was EDI.

Shaking herself from a stunned silence, an excited smile broke on Shepard's face. “EDI!” The name left her somewhat hushed with disbelief.

“Shepard, despite being in close proximity to a geth prime, you do not appear to be alarmed.”

“No,” Shepard assured, shaking her head slightly as she began to wheel herself over to the holographic AI. “It's fine.”

“You are still recovering,” EDI observed.

Still beaming, as if the last of her worries had been stripped away entirely, Shepard replied, “Yeah. Took a hell of a hit, or so I'm told.”

“That is unexpected. From my understanding, you should be walking at one hundred percent soundness by now.” Shepard's smile vanished from her face as quickly as it appeared, her hands stilling the wheels of her chair, halting her forward motion.

Something was wrong.

“E-EDI?” Joker's voice was barely above a whisper as he hobbled his way over from where he stood at the back of the room. His gait was faster than Garrus had ever seen him move before, his eyes wide with shock. For a second, Garrus almost thought to step in front of him because, clearly, he didn't interpret what EDI had just said the way he and Shepard evidently had.

“Mr. Moreau.” And there it was, the crushing realization that Garrus dreaded to see. Joker stopped dead in his tracks. “We are not on the _Normandy._ I have no data on this location. It would appear I was powered down. What transpired?”

Joker looked like he'd been slapped across the face. He stared at EDI, slack-jawed and wide-eyed as if she had betrayed him somehow. Then, in a demonstration of what Joker truly did best, he smiled through his pain, though Garrus didn't miss the way his brittle hands closed into shaking fists at his sides.

“A whole lot, EDI,” he answered. Haunting images of his sick mother came unbidden to Garrus all at once. Memories of him, sitting at her bedside, placating her as she asked for the authenticity of events she should have remembered. “Too much to tell right now.”

Miranda, evidently done observing the exchange, approached the AI, her heels clicking along on the durasteel floor. In the old authoritative tone Garrus recalled her to have, she addressed _Normandy_ AI. “EDI, I need you to put a message through to the Illusive Man for me.” When she finished, she met Garrus' eyes. A test, then.

“Of course, Operative Lawson.” A pause. “I'm sorry. It seems the connection has been severed.”

“Yeah,” was Joker's choked agreement, his eyes fixed on the floor, though his hard, weary smile still remained.

Shepard turned to him, concerned. “Jeff.”

“It's okay.” Joker met her gaze briefly before he looked to the geth prime and said, “Go ahead and power her down.”

“Mr. Moreau.” Joker visibly flinched. “Have I done something to upset you?”

“Now.” Joker's voice finally broke, refusing to look at her now. “Please.”

“Mr. Moreau.” And, once again, EDI disappeared.

Joker had turned for the door, intent on walking out without them when the geth prime spoke up. _“We have data on your interactions with... EeeDee.”_ It seemed to struggle with the use of the name. _“From what we have learned of organic life, it would appear that you had what organics call a 'relationship.' We can upload what the unit you called, Legion, observed into the chip.”_

Joker stopped, his gaze remaining on the exit in front of him.

_“It would provide the equivalent of memories with which we understand shapes organic personalities. We have files sufficient enough that they would alter her personality matrix-”_

“No,” he answered, but not unkindly. “Thanks, but not interested.”

“Jeff.” Miranda took a step towards him. “It might not be a bad idea. This is still EDI, after all, just... version 1.0, sort to speak. You have to understand that what made her _her_ was what she learned from her interactions with you and the rest of the crew.”

As analytical as she sounded, Garrus knew that Miranda was trying to be comforting. 'Trying' being the operative word, of course. It would seem that the ability to console people was not on the list of all her perfected talents.

Joker turned to regard her then. “No,” he repeated, more firmly now. “No, _you_ have to understand that that's _not_ what she would have wanted. She had learned so much. She was her own person.” His voice finally began to grow, his anger unleashing itself like steam from a loosened pressure valve. “Damn it, she _cared_ about us! And she sure as hell deserves a lot better than to just have a personality-” He began to shout. “- DOWNLOADED ONTO HER LIKE A-” Breaking himself off, Joker's eyes flooded with unshed tears and his body trembled from more than just his weak skeletal structure. After a looming silence ruled the room, he curtailed any further discussion with, “I'll meet you guys in the car.”

Nobody stopped him this time.

The trip back to the _Normandy_ was a silent one. No one spoke until it was time to say their goodbyes to Tali once again.

“Here.” Tali, having retrieved the chip from the prime before leaving, pressed it into Garrus' hands. “You should take her with you. Set her up in the AI core and, when he's ready, maybe Joker can talk with her.” She paused to watch the said pilot hobble his way up the _Normandy's_ ramp, looking more cold and distant than Garrus had ever seen him. Shepard wheeled her way slowly up behind him at a speed that had to be deliberate. She wouldn't want to pass him by, probably afraid to see the disappointment on his face and likely blaming herself for putting it there. Tearing her eyes away from them, Tali met Garrus' gaze once again and must have saw concern in his eyes. Reading his fears, she explained, “No. She won't be able to seize control of the _Normandy_ any more than you could with your omni-tool. It's safe.” She cupped his large hand with both of hers and closed his fingers around the chip. “I promise.”

 

* * *

 

Garrus ultimately left the decision of setting EDI up in the AI coreto Joker. Predictably, the helmsman was resistant at first, but after a week of waiting, Joker approached him with the data chip in hand. With the help of some of their techs, along with Miranda, they powered her on again.

Joker kept his stuck-on smile in place throughout it all and answered EDI's questions as they came. It all seemed to be going smoothly until she brought up The Illusive Man. That’s when it all went to hell. Shepard was beside Joker, patiently explaining the entirety of the Reaper War, when EDI went eerily silent before she started blurting the same word over and over again as if stuck in a loop.

“ _Error. Error. Error. Error.”_

Whatever courage Joker had mustered for this conversation crumbled like a sand fortress beneath a wave of water. From Garrus’ ownpersonal experience, losing someone you cared about to death was one thing. To see that they forgot you completely was another. Was Joker's relationship with EDI truly little more than programming- her memories of him nothing but files that had been wiped clean from a hard drive?

“ _Error. Error. Error. Error.”_

What of his mother's memories of her children and bondmate as she lay dying? Where they so easily removed?

He watched Joker recoil from the room, taking what confidence Garrus had in the risk he took obtaining the chip with him.

“ _Error. Error. Error. Error.”_

He damn near died getting that piece of plastic. Was it really all so that he could stand in the AI core and watch Joker lose someone close to him all over again? To watch Shepard uselessly placate the holographic orb, her voice drowned out by the repeated message?

No, there had to be a reason for the chip to bedown in the mines of that soul-sucking corporation on Asteria. There had to be some explanation as to why he was lured to it, and he _was_ lured to it, wasn't he? Or maybe he wasn't. Maybe it really was all just a coincidence and his mind was simply stuck in a loop, much like the babbling AI that rang in his ears, trying to fill in the gaps that so many questions had left vacant.

Garrus cut the power to the AI core and EDI went silent again.

“What happened?” Shepard wheeled on Miranda.

Miranda regarded Shepard cautiously for a moment before she redirected her gaze to where the blue orb had been idling. “I can only guess, but I’m starting to think that what I said about EDI being version 1.0was incorrect. I think this EDI is more akin to that rogue VI you encountered on Luna.”

Garrus exchanged a brief look with Shepard, silently confirming his earlier fears, before he asked, “So what we’re dealing with is beta EDI?”

“In a sense, yes, but I think she’s a little beyond what she was when Cerberus first acquired her. If you recall, her… ‘awakening’ back then was quite eventful, or so I was told.”

“Oh. It was ‘eventful’ all right,” Shepard confirmed, her lips tight in a grim frown.

“At this stage of development, she would be undergoing the tests for the _Normandy’s_ installation, or so she thinks. She would know who I am. She would know who the _Normandy’s_ pilot is. She would know who you are-” Miranda nodded at Shepard. “-She would know your purpose was to stop the Collectors. She would be aware of the claims you made of the Reapers existence. Though, everything that occurred after that… I suppose hearing all that has transpired must have been a bit of a shock.”

“So that was her having a meltdown?” Garrus tilted his head to the side.

“Yes,” Miranda affirmed.

“Except without the turrets this time,” he said.

“Thankfully.”

“Do you think she’ll… improve?” There was a trepidatious edge to Shepard’s tone. “To what she once was?”

To that, Miranda’s eyes grew heavy with uncertainty. Maybe guilt. “I don’t know, Shepard. It’s impossible to tell exactly how far along she is in her development- if she’s even capable of that kind of cognitive growth. I’m sorry.”

To no one's surprise, EDI's fate hit Shepard hard and Garrus felt powerless to help her this time. He could remind her all he wanted that she wasn't to blame for what happened to the AI or for Joker's misery, but as long as she refused to relinquish that burden there was nothing he could do.

Instead, he encouraged her to focus on her own health, which seemed to help a little. It gave her something to dedicate her energy and thoughts toward. It would be another two months before she was able to walk without assistance and then two weeks after that when she asked him to spar with her. He held back for the first few sessions until he started to feel some real weight behind her swings, then he started to push back, feeling his blood heat up at the challenge. More than a few of their sessions ended with them naked in the Kodiak.

Garrus had also taken an interest in spending time with his helmsman in the cockpit. It was a while before Joker began to live up to his moniker once again, but with enough prodding and some patent-pending backhanded compliments on Garrus' part, he started to smile a little more. However, Garrus suspected that the looming, haunted look in his eyes would likely never fully subside, but then again, he could probably say the same for all of them.

Nobody survived the Reaper War without some degree of internal horror.

One day, on his way down to the cargo hold to meet Shepard for another match... and maybe a little more, Dr. Chakwas beckoned him to the med-bay wherein she led him to the door outside the AI core. Inside, through the slab of steel between them, he heard Joker's voice.

“Hey, EDI.”

“Good morning, Mr. Moreau.”

“You-uh... you got a minute? See, I'm having an argument with Donnelly about ship trajectory that I think you can settle.”

Not for the first time, Garrus felt unsure if he should smile or frown. He ultimately settled for a neutral nod in Chakwas' direction and left for the lift.

Of course, his Spectre duties hadn't lessened much, if at all. There were the usual pirates and slavers to contend with, of course, but now he was expected to be on the lookout for any more unusual satellite readings. As poorly as his report to Victus ended, the Council was apparently satisfied with it enough to seemingly take a potential threat from the Leviathans somewhat seriously. It had been agreed between them that it would be kept hush-hush among civilians, with the exception of world leaders like the Primarchs, Alliance brass, and other higher up government officials for the Council races. He wished he could have been there for Wrex’s reaction to the news.

“It's a better response than what I got about the Reapers, right?” Shepard had tried to assure him.

That was true, sure, but Garrus' plates were itching all the same. He wondered how much Victus had divulged to his peers. He could only guess if he mentioned the _Kaisar_ thing because he certainly couldn't ask, seeing as Councilor Victus suddenly had other matters to attend to than contact Garrus again. That wasn't to say that Councilor calls had ended completely- oh no. They were simply made by the other members.

Garrus longed for the day when Shepard could start taking them again. Naturally, she didn't agree.

As the year crept into 2190, he and Shepard would start to get to know some of the other Spectres. Some he disliked instantly while others were likable enough. They were made up of various races and backgrounds, but they did all have one thing in common: They all shared a strong apprehension toward Councilor Victus.

It was a sentiment that, if he was honest, Garrus found a little upsetting. He remembered a time when he was loved and popular among those that served under him. Technically, he still was as far as public opinion of the masses went. He was by far the most liked and respected Councilor... but then again, they didn't have to work for him.

It eventually got to a point that if the Turian Councilor needed to see a Spectre, not caring who, it would be Garrus that would be called upon by his contemporaries to 'deal with him.' He was beginning to feel like the favored zookeeper with the sole ability of being able to enter the cantankerous klixen pen without getting mauled orburned. It wasn’t a bad comparison when Garrus thought about it. That had been a daunting task for the first few or... hundred requests, but he eventually grew accustomed to the Councilor's taciturn persona- expected it even.

Their exchanges usually began with a friendly greeting on Garrus' part: “Good morning, Councilor,” and Victus would either ignore it or snap a venomous retort to make Garrus feel as unwelcome as possible. Yet, despite all of that, Garrus was well aware of how much Victus trusted him. His reports were never questioned without reason, his methods were never criticized, and when Garrus needed permission for anything, the Councilor was usually willing to grant it.

In return, Garrus found himself treating Victus differently from the other Councilors. For one, he made an effort to make sure that the trust placed in him was never unwarranted. He answered truthfully to any and all questions Victus had for him, no matter how much growling he knew he’d earn for his answers. As much as that gained him the Councilor’s confidence it also led to, at times, his ire, which sparked more than a few heated arguments between them.

“You do realize that you two argue like an old married couple, right?” Shepard tilted her head to smirk at him while they walked -well, she walked. His stride was more akin to storming angrily- from Victus’ office one day.

Though, as time went on, Garrus found that his anger towards Victus was ebbing away completely and replaced by pity. This was no longer the Adrien Victus he once knew and he doubted more and more if he'd ever see his friend again. Sometimes he'd try to lure him in with a joke or a quip about some ill-fated merc on the last mission, but he was always rebuffed by a cold, silent look. Then Garrus would have little choice but to follow up with a: “Right. The orders. Sorry.”

With the rise of the Citadel came the rise of galactic civilization as a whole. Life was becoming, dare he thought it, routine. Shepard even took him out for his birthday, which was a sentiment made more surprising because he forgot about it completely. Yet, to his mild astonishment, routine wasn't a bad thing. There was the typical running and gunning, of course, but Garrus was ultimately happy with what his life was shaping into post-war. But it was also terrifying. He had everything- well... almost everything, he could have wanted in life. He was afraid he'd wake up one day to the discovery that it was all a dream. That the warmth beside him wasn't Shepard's sleeping form, but a corpse strewn up against him on a dirty Omega floor.

Thoughts like that left him gasping for air.

But it wasn't a dream. Shepard- his Shepard- was alive and even walking again. It really was her stepping off a shuttle, clad in a form-fitting enviro-suit _-'that did wonderful things to her six'-_ on Palaven to finally meet his family in person. It was her that tentatively approached Solana and Castis Vakarian in Cipritine Port, her chin raised and shoulders squared with a stiff, outstretched hand. And it was his father that took one look at the offered hand, ignored it, and instead pulled the small human into an embrace.

It was Shepard that finally had a family to call her own.

By the end of 2190, Shepard stood beside him, her N7 armor gleaming in the sun with Morticia braced against her shoulder, her barrel pointed skyward. The wind whipped her copper hair, pulled back in a tail behind her head, and she grinned eagerly up at him from behind her Kuwashii visor.

It was Garrus that finally had a home.

“C’mon, Vakarian. We have work to do.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I've included a Nihlus rec yet so I wanted to plug this story that I found a couple weeks ago. [ If Only For The Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14166657/chapters/32653782) by [Ylixia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ylixia/pseuds/Ylixia). It's a short, but very well-written take on a potential budding relationship that Shepard could have had with our favorite ill-fated turian Spectre before the events of Eden Prime. The writing is sweet, funny, and I found myself growing quickly attached to both her Shepard and the Nihlus in this story. It's truly excellent.
> 
> The character, Veselin, is actually  
> [shretl (Girlundone)'s](http://archiveofourown.org/users/girlundone/pseuds/shretl) OC. Thank you for letting me use him and giving Cybele the happy ending she deserves. <3
> 
> And that's it for this story, but not for this series. I've already started part 4, but I think I'm going to take a little writing break for a short while and get some Pillars of Eternity gameplay in. Then I'll return fresh for the next installment. We're coming for you, Leviathans! 
> 
> Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments and for simply coming back to keep reading. This story has definitely evolved into more than even I thought it would and I have you lovely readers to thank for it.


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